Prussian Strategic Thought 1815-1830: Beyond Clausewitz [1 ed.] 9789004438439, 9789004438422

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Prussian Strategic Thought 1815–1830

History of Warfare Editors Kelly DeVries (Loyola University Maryland) John France (University of Wales, Swansea) Paul Johstono (The Citadel, South Carolina) Michael S. Neiberg (United States Army War College, Pennsylvania) Frederick Schneid (High Point University, North Carolina)

volume 131

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/hw

Prussian Strategic Thought 1815–1830 Beyond Clausewitz By

Jacek Jędrysiak

Translated by

Witold Zbirohowski-Kościa

leiden | boston

Cover illustration: Prussian staff officers during Generalstabsreise. With kind permission of Marek Jędrysiak. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2020033293

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 1385-7827 ISBN 978-90-04-43842-2 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-43843-9 (e-book) Copyright 2020 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Acknowledgements VII Introduction 1 1 Determinants of the Study of the History of the Prussian Army in the 19th Century 9 2 Methodology and Research Methods 32 3 Structure of the Work 42

Part 1 Conditions for the Development of Prussian Military Thought in the Years 1815–1830

Introduction to Part 1 46

1

Kingdom of Prussia as an Element of the European Balance of Power 47

2

Prussia’s Internal Situation and Problems Organising Its Armed Forces after 1815 69

3

Restoration of the Prussian ‘Military Monarchy’ and Organisation of Military Authorities 92

4

Defence Planning in Prussia in the Years 1815–1830 131

5

Institutional Impact on Prussian Military Science, Didactics, and Literature 159

Part 2 Prussian Defence Planning in the Years 1815–1830

Introduction to Part 2 180

6

The Strategic Views of Hermann von Boyen and Karl von Grolman 183

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7

Prussian Strategic Concepts in the Years 1815–1819 198

8

The Military-Theoretical Views of Karl von Müffling 250

9

Evidence of Prussian Defence Planning in the years 1820–1830 265

Part 3 Prussian Strategic Thought in Military Literature in the Years 1815–1830

Introduction to Part 3 304

10

Johann Otto August Rühle von Lilienstern and his Vision of the Art of War 307

11

Carl von Decker and Works Published under his Auspices in the Years 1815–1830 338

12

The Art of War from the Point of View of Georg Wilhelm von Valentini 375

13

Johann Friedrich Constantin von Lossau and his Der Krieg für wahre Krieger 401

14

First Works of Heinrich August von Brandt 424

Conclusion 449 Appendix: Biographies 455 Bibliography 475 Subject Index 510 Personal Index 514 Geographic Index 524

Acknowledgements Several people have contributed to this work with practical help and support. Professor Jerzy Maroń from the Historical Institute at the University of Wrocław was my mentor and true guide to the world of military thought, and has made an enormous impact on shaping the concept of this book. His influence includes also the very happy choice of the reviewers of my dissertation. Without the support of and the many interesting discussions with professors Norbert Kasparek from the University of Warmia and Mazury in Olsztyn and Tomasz Przerwa from the University of Wrocław, my doctoral thesis could never have been converted into this book. My colleagues from so-called ‘Wrocław School of Military History’, established by Professor Maroń, were also key contributors, in particular my closest friends Krzysztof Widziński and Daniel Koreś, who always offered me their advice and help, as well as constant moral support. I would like to thank sincerely my supervisors, who were essential in securing financial support. I’m especially grateful to the Deputy Director of the Historical Institute, Dr hab. Lucyna Harc, for the idea to translate my work. My direct supervisor, Professor Tomasz Głowiński, must also be thanked for his unerring faith in the eventual success of the work and his patience with the many delays that other responsibilities suffered. I’m also thankful to the Dean of the Faculty of Historical and Pedagogical Sciences, Professor Przemysław Wiszewski, the Director of the Historical Institute, Professor Rościsław Żerelik, and the Deputy Director of the Historical Institute, Professor Filip Wolański, for their goodwill and support during many procedures. I would like to offer special thanks for the specialists of our university administration, Mr. Katarzyna Polak and Teresa Bednarz, who always assisted me in the necessary formalities. I also want to mention Vanya Eftimova Bellinger, who provided very practical advice on publishers and useful contacts. I’m grateful for support of my colleagues from the Military Historical Bureau, and its director, Professor Sławomir Cenckiewicz. To Witold Zbirohowski-Kościa I owe thanks for the translation, and to Timothy Wardell for his proof-reading of the English. I am grateful for the opportunity to work with Marcella Mulder, and appreciated her kindness at every stage of the manuscript preparation. I give special thanks to my father, who used his masterful artistic skills to create the ideal image for use on the cover. Thanks to his talent, my book looks like how I always dreamed it would. My brother, a witness to my work for

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months on end, my mother and my grandparents, who always supported me and always had faith, should also be mentioned. Last, but undoubtedly the most important, my beloved fiancée Anna. Her support, understanding, help and patience were the key to finding the will to finish this hard task. For this I’ll always be a grateful and happy debtor.

Introduction In an interview published in September of 2012 on the directions of modernisation in the Polish army, Professor Józef Marczak then of the National Defence Academy1 stated: ‘There is a saying that the Germans should not be corrected in military matters. They have their legendary Landwehr, which is always ready for action. Here, we ought to have our own equivalent’.2 This opinion of a specialist in the field of military sciences is an exemplification of the German army myth in contemporary consciousness. Two lost world wars have in no way undermined the esteem with which the German military are held. The ‘Landwehr legend’ is a component of the phenomenon whose origins can be traced to an appraisal of the achievements of the Prussian army. Prussian organisation and institutions are still considered by many as exemplary, and the Prussian way of conducting warfare as a model of military perfection. Such opinions are usually based on impressions recorded by contemporaries and by later generations regarding the campaigns of the Great Elector, ­Frederick ii, Gebhard von Blücher, and Helmuth von Moltke the Elder. For a number of scholars, these distant and not directly connected events form the basis for categorical appraisals of Prussian and German armies over the centuries. Significantly, most of the successes of the Prussian-German armed forces, including those during World War ii, are attributed to ideas and institutions that emerged in the 19th century. Myths concerning the 1864–1871 wars led to the dogmatisation of knowledge on the subject.3 German war successes were supposedly due to an ‘exemplary’ General Staff,4 acting in accordance with

1 Since 2016 it is called the War Studies Academy (Akademia Sztuki Wojennej). This is the most important military school in Poland, continuing the traditions of the interwar Higher War School (Wyższa Szkoła Wojenna), educating officers of the general staff (then called certified officers). 2 ‘Powinniśmy mieć własną Landwehrę’ [We should have our own Landwehr], interview ­conducted by J. Bulikowska, Rzeczpospolita, 25.09.2012; https://www.rp.pl/artykul/936327-­ Powinnismy-miec-wlasna-Landwehre.html (access 15/05/2020). 3 D. Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen 1807–1870: militärische Innovationen und der Mythos der „Roonschen Reform“ (Paderborn-Vienna-Munich-Zürich, 2003), 13–22; T. Zuber, The Moltke Myth. Prussian War Planning 1857–1871 (Lanham-Boulder-New York-Toronto-Plymouth, 2008), 5–12. 4 A. Bucholz, Moltke, Schlieffen and Prussian War Planning (New York–Oxford, 1991), 12–38; Bucholz, Moltke and the German Wars, 1864–1871 (New York, 2001), 15–20; T.N. Dupuy, A Genius for War. The German Army and General Staff, 1807–1945 (Falls Church, 1997), 70–109.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���� | doi:10.1163/9789004438439_002

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ideas laid out in Carl von Clausewitz’s ‘timeless’ Vom Kriege,5 and put into practice by Moltke the Elder.6 These elements became the main components of the Prussian army myth, reference points to which were sought in previous and subsequent events in the history of Prussian and German armed forces. Teleological theses of literature were the effect of this state of affairs, which as Dierk Walter rightly noted, ‘continue to tell the same story from the same perspective with almost the same phrasing’.7 The phenomenon was noticed in the context of the ‘Schlieffen Plan’ by the controversial American scholar Terence Zuber.8 In his opinion, world historiography too readily treated as fact the existence of a mythical plan based on claims made by German officers, as a result of which their version of events has been accepted even when contradicted by original sources.9 While Zuber’s conclusions, in my opinion, go too far, in the broader context official German army historiography, as well as source editions of German institutes, are key to building a Prussian army myth. Its history in the first half of the 19th century is largely seen through the eyes of German officers, the effect of which is to overstate certain aspects and understate others, leading to a specific evaluation of people and events that are crucial to understanding certain Prussian military phenomena.10 Periods of 19th-century Prussian military history in the years 1806–1815 and 1864–1871 may have been thoroughly described, but the sources for these descriptions have remained practically unchanged for years. Authors using the

5

A. Gat, The Development of Military Thought: The Nineteenth Century (Oxford-New York, 1992), 46–49; J.L. Wallach, Das Dogma der Vernichtungsschlacht. Die Lehren von Clausewitz und Schlieffen und ihre Wirkung in zwei Weltkriegen (Munich, 1970), 23–61; Wallach, Kriegstheorien: ihre Entwicklung im 19. u. 20. Jahrhundert, trans. H.-J. Baron von Koskull (Frankfurt am Main, 1972), 31–68. 6 Bucholz, Moltke, Schlieffen, 39–57; Bucholz, Moltke and the German, 50–76; R.M. Citino, The German Way of War (Lawrence, Kansas, 2005), 142–190; H. Holborn, ‘The Prusso-­ German School: Moltke and the Rise of the General Staff’, Makers of Modern Strategy: from Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age, ed. P. Paret (Princeton, 1986), 281–295; G.E. Rothenberg, ‘Moltke, Schlieffen, and the Doctrine of Strategic Envelopment’, Paret’s Makers of Modern Strategy, 296–311; H. Strachan, European Armies and the Conduct of War (London and New York, 2005), 89–105. 7 ‘Die vorhandene Literatur erzählt die gleiche Geschichte aus der gleichen Perspektive mit fast den gleichen Formulierungen immer wieder’; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 13. 8 Zuber, ‘The Schlieffen Plan Reconsidered’, War in History 3 (1999), 262–305; Zuber, Inventing the Schlieffen Plan: German War Planning 1871–1914 (Oxford-New York, 2002), 1–51. 9 Zuber, Inventing, 1–51. 10 M. Pöhlmann, Kriegsgeschichte und Geschichtspolitik: Der Erste Weltkrieg. Die amtliche deutsche Militärgechichtsschreibung 1914–1956 (Paderborn-Munich-Vienna-Zürich, 2002), 41–42, 46–50; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 28–33, 38–43.

Introduction

3

same primary and secondary sources have produced predictable results. ­Assessments of historical events, phenomena, and figures differ only slightly. This has led to the establishment of statements regarding Prussian military history that have become historiographic facts. Some, only tenuously linked to sources, through repeated citation have acquired an axiomatic status, resulting in an imbalance in the study of elements in 19th-century Prussian military history. The period between the Wars of Liberation and the Wars of Unification have been almost exclusively analysed in the context of those two events. An eminent example may be Robert M. Citino’s The German Way of War.11 Basing his views, by his own admission, on Fernand Braudel’s ‘longue durée’ theory, Citino saw a consistency in the way Germans (by which he was largely referring to the Prussian army) waged war from the reign of the Great Elector up until 1941, a period of continuity in the Prussian-German art of war. Its original characteristics were the desire to end a war quickly with decisive actions and a penchant for unconventional manoeuvres carried out on individual initiative without relying on higher command. All of this supposedly amounted to Bewegungskrieg, a typically German way of fighting, perceptible equally at Fehrbellin, Leuthen, Sedan, on the Marne, and at Kiev, regardless of technological and tactical changes. The flaw in this concept is undoubtedly in viewing only selected military operations. Citino almost totally ignored not only military literature but, above all, over four decades of 19th-century Prussian military history,12 which falsifies the theory of ‘long term’.13 Serious doubts are raised as well by Arden Bucholz’s claims in his recent work, in which he attributes to the period before 1857, a time of preparation for the wars against Denmark, Austria, and France, that the foundation of Prussian success was learned from the Napoleonic campaigns in the creation of the unique institution of a General Staff,14 which conducted what he calls the ‘deep future-oriented war planning process’.15 In an earlier work, Bucholz claimed that the combination of a system of reserve forces with technological development allowed the Prussian army in the times of Moltke the Elder to achieve 20th-century standards.16

11 Citino, The German Way, xi–xix. 12 The narrative of the work passes smoothly from the Napoleonic wars in the fourth chapter to the times of Moltke in the fifth; ibid., 104–190. 13 In addition to the problem of treating this construct as an example of ‘long term’, one may also have doubts about generally perceiving the art of war through the Braudel model. 14 Bucholz, Moltke and the German, 12–20. 15 Ibid., 15–16. 16 Bucholz, Moltke, Schlieffen, 47. Criticism of this point of view: Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 37; Zuber, The Moltke Myth, 10–11.

4

Introduction

These claims motivated the investigation of the subject of Prussian strategic thought in the years 1815–1857 as my doctoral dissertation.17 The result was a thesis entitled ‘Prussian Strategic Thought 1815–1848’, written under the supervision of Professor Jerzy Maroń from the Historical Institute at the University of Wrocław.18 Works on the Prussian army treat the 1815–1830 years cursorily, concentrating only on its organisation and how it functioned.19 Military literature of the period is perceived exclusively in the context of Carl von Clausewitz and his Vom Kriege as the only work in the first half of the 19th century on the subject as worthy of attention. In 1873, in a supplement to the official periodical ­Militair-Wochenblatt (mwb), Ferdinand von Meerheimb described Clausewitz as an author whose work made outdated all writings of earlier authors attempting to create an art of war based on mathematical theories.20 He saw, at the same time, Clausewitz’s negation of the sensibility of contemporary military literature that was mainly of a technical and practical nature, which could apply to works such as those of Carl von Decker, Johann Jacob Rühle von Lilienstern, or Heinrich von Brandt. Meerheimb, obviously, held Vom Kriege as the most important German work on military theory. He expressed himself after in a brief biographical sketch, where he stated that Clausewitz’s work ‘has 17

18 19

20

PhD course: Od Napoleona do Moltke: Pruska myśl wojskowa 1815–1857 [From Napoleon to Moltke. Prussian Military Thought 1815–1857], begun by the decision of the University of Wrocław Historical Institute on 12th January 2011. The research was also funded by the National Science Centre, decision No. dec 2011/01/N/HS3/01102. The work was awarded the polish Prime Minister’s Prize for exceptional doctoral theses in 2014. Works on the structure of the Prussian army predominate: C. Jany, Geschichte der Königlich Preußischen Armee vom 15. Jahrhundert bis 1914, vol. 4: Die Königlich Preußische Armee und das Deutsche Reichsheer 1807 bis 1914 (Berlin, 1933), 115–214; O. von der Osten-Sacken und von Rhein, Preußens Heer. Von seinen Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart, vol. 2: Die neue Armee. Bis zur Armee Reorganisation 1859/60 (Berlin, 1912), 181–371; H. Rosinski, Die deutsche Armee. Vom Triumph zur Niederlage, trans. C.H. Hermann (Munich, 1977), 83–93; G.A. Craig, The Politics of the Prussian Army: 1640–1945 (London-Oxford-New York, 1955), 65–81; M. Kitchen, A Military History of Germany from the Eighteenth Centaury to the Present Day (London, 1975), 60–87; Another group concerns the General Staff: H. von Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe der Befreiungskriege’, Von Scharnhorst zu Schlieffen 1806–1906. Hundert Jahre preußisch-deutscher Generalstab, ed. F. von Cochenhausen, (Berlin, 1933), 115–147; Dupuy, A Genius for War, 37–69; G. Förster et al., Der preußisch-deutsche Generalstab 1640–1945 zu seiner politischen Rolle in der Geschichte (Berlin, 1966), 15–23; W. Görlitz, Der deutsche Generalstab. Geschichte und Gestalt 1657–1945 (Frankfurt am Main, 1953), 67–90; Ch. O. Millotat, Das preußisch-deutsche Generalstabssystem: Wurzeln, Entwicklung, Fortwirken (Zürich, 2000), 61–66. [F. von Meerheimb], ‘Ueber Militair-Bildung und Wissenschaft’, Beiheft zum MilitairWochenblatt 1 (1873), 13, 33–34.

Introduction

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long since passed through the body and blood of the German army’, as a result of which it was hard to write anything new on the subject.21 In his fundamental work, Rudolf von Caemmerer categorized the history of strategic thought by specific individuals. The views of Adam Heinrich Dietrich von Bülow were presented as typical of the schematic and geometric art of war in the 18th century,22 made obsolete by the revolutionary and Napoleonic wars. In his opinion, ­Antoine-Henri de Jomini was responsible for making these theories even more abstract, where the emblem of these erroneous ideas was Archduke Charles Habsburg, whose views in Prussia were promoted by Georg Wilhelm von Valentini. Ultimately, the views of Clausewitz accounted for the development of the modern theory of war in the first half of the 19th century, even though presented as ‘erroneous’ by Karl Wilhelm von Willisen, duplicated by subsequent German authors.23 Writing in the specific circumstances of 1940, Ernst Hagemann proposed the idea of a ‘German science of war’ where German military thought was given as a reflection of the national idea. He saw its beginnings in the intellectual trends of the Romantic period and as an opposition to the 18th-century mechanistic perception of war.24 Its features emphasised the essence of conflict as the clashing of human wills, due to which a normative system was impossible and the deciding factor was chance alone. The culmination and personification of these views was to be Clausewitz. The inspiration for his work came directly from that of Georg von Berenhorst, Gerhard von Scharnhorst, Rühle von Lilienstern, and Johann Constantin von Lossau. The selection was tendentious: Berenhorst symbolized resistance against the ideology of the Enlightenment; Scharnhorst represented early 19th-century reforms and was mentor and personal friend of Clausewitz; Rühle and Lossau were writers whose views were closest to those of Clausewitz. As a result, it is difficult to consider his work as a study of what German military science meant.

21 22 23 24

‘…Clausewitz’s Werke längst im Fleisch und Blut der Preussischen Armee übergegangen sind’; Meerheimb, Carl von Clausewitz. Vortrag in der militairischen Gesellschaft in Berlin (Berlin, 1876), 1. R. von Caemmerer, Die Entwickelung der strategischen Wissenschaft im 19. Jahrhundert (Berlin, 1904), 1–9. Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 125–126, 140–141; H. von Freytag-Loringhoven, Heerführung im Weltkriege; vergleichende Studien, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1920), 1–48; H. Rothfels, Carl von Clausewitz. Politik und Krieg. Eine ideengeschichtliche Studie (Berlin, 1920), 29–60, 190–193. The prefaces at the start of book most clearly expreses its purpose; E. Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre vom Kriege. I. Von Berenhorst zu Clausewitz (Berlin, 1940).

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The viewpoint presented by Hagemann fully corresponds with the opinions of later German historians.25 Today, Beatrice Heuser clearly expresses his standpoint.26 For her, evidence of the universal acceptance of Clausewitz’s views in the first half of the 19th century are references made by Berenhorst, Rühle, and Lossau that were taken almost exspresis verbis from Die deutsche Lehre vom Kriege.27 Azar Gat’s multi-volume work, contrary to his wishes as a history of military thought, duplicates and expands established patterns in German literature.28 In its first part, the views of Berenhorst, Scharnhorst, and Clausewitz are an exemplification of the Romantic German military thought as a reaction to the Enlightenment. In his opinion, this was the beginning of the so-called German war school.29 Although in several footnotes one can find references to the works of Rühle and Lossau, this is decidedly not enough evidence for such a far-reaching statement.30 The second part of the work begins with an extensive passage repeating the ‘romantic school’ thesis, which is followed by a chapter on the 19th-century German art of war31 that briefly summarises the first half of the century,32 smoothly passing on to the figure of Moltke. Although several German military writers contemporary to Clausewitz are mentioned, in no way does Gat discuss their ideas. Many national schools of military history today, such as the Italian one, are under the influence of

25

Cochenhausen, ‘Klassiker der Kriegskunst, 1648–1914’, Wissen und Wehr (WuW) 7/8 (1944), 235–252; U. Marwedel, Carl von Clausewitz. Persönlichkeit und Wirkungsgeschichte seines Werkes bis 1918 (Boppard am Rhein, 1978), 183–190; Rosinski, ‘Scharnhorst to Schlieffen: The Rise and Decline of German Military Thought’, Naval War College Review 1 (1976), 83–103. 26 B. Heuser, Reading Clausewitz (London, 2002). 27 Ibid., 25, 30, 44–45, 73, 77, 89, 104, 213, 214, 216. For example, Heuser states that the ‘Clausewitz notion that military genius is to a large extent a natural gift was widely shared among the Prussian reformers’ (73), by which the author means Berenhorst and Lossau. Unfortunately, Heuser does not explain how Berenhorst, who died in 1814, could share in his 1805 work a view known from a book published in 1832. While understanding the author’s intention to show the convergence views, it would be more logical to say that Clausewitz shared Berenhorst’s view and not the other way round. Likewise, Lossau expressed his opinion almost 18 years before Vom Kriege was published, of which Heuser is aware, but this does not deter her from accrediting the leading role in formulating the whole idea to Clausewitz. 28 Gat, The Origins of Military Thought. From the Enlightenment to Clausewitz (Oxford-New York, 1989), ix–x. 29 Ibid., 168–189. 30 Ibid., 191, 193, 211, 242. 31 Gat, The Development, 1–45. 32 Ibid., 46–49.

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German historiography.33 French historiography, influenced by Jomini’s ideas,34 is aware of important military thinkers other than the author of Vom Kriege. Rühle von Lilienstern has also aroused interest.35 Nevertheless, the substance of Eugène Carrias’s book on the 1815–1857 period is devoted to Clausewitz’s theory,36 and the chapter on the relationship of Jomini and Willisen’s theory to Vom Kriege is clearly inspired by Caemmerer.37 Fernand T. Schneider’s works are entirely based on Hagemann, without providing the source or even the order in which the issues are discussed.38 Although research today is extensive, it nevertheless duplicates many German-made patterns.39 Deficiencies in knowledge concerning the intellectual environment in which the German philosopher’s opus magnum on war was formed considerably inhibit the possibility of drawing conclusions about the significance of its publication. An important element in this context is the postulate for the broadening of discussion over Prussian strategy apart from literature and an attempt to reconstruct the concept of strategy and operations. Despite access to sources, this issue has so far eluded the main focus of historians. Documents concerning planning reflect the real shape of military doctrine (or in the absence of a doctrine, the views of the highest military authorities). They are a translation of theoretical achievements into real internal and international situation, a tool illustrating the relationship between military writers and the views of official Prussian army decision makers. The use of these documents as a source results from doubts concerning historiographical research methods and the presentation of issues regarding military thought in the 19th and 20th centuries. A frequent deficiency in assessing prevailing views is based on the views 33

F. Botti, Il pensiero militare e navale italiano dalla Rivoluzione francese alla prima guerra (1789–1815), vol. 1: Dalla Rivoluzione francese alla prima guerra d’indipendenza: (1789–1848) (Rome, 1995), 157–210; E. Passerin d’Entreves, Guerra e riforme. La Prusia e il problema nazionale tedesco prima del 1848 (Bologna, 1985), 37–50; G.E. Rusconi, Clausewitz, il prusiano. La politica della guerra nelli’equilibrio europeo (Turin, 1999). 34 A.-H. de Jomini, Précis de l’art de la guerre: ou Nouveau traité analytique des principales combinaisons de la stratégie, de la grande tactique et de la politique militaire, 2nd Ed., vol. 1 (Paris, Petersbourg, Leipzig, Amsterdam, 1837), 14–16. 35 L. Sauzin, Rühle von Lilienstern et son Apologie de la guerre (Paris, 1937). 36 E. Carrias, La pensée militaire allemande (Paris, 1948), 182–218. 37 Ibid., 218–230. 38 F.T. Schneider, ‘La pensée militaire allemande à l’époque de Clausewitz’, Revue de défense nationale 64 (1949), 437–451; Schneider, Histoire des doctrines militaires (Paris, 1957), 39–51. 39 H. Coutau-Bégarie, Traité de stratégie, 5th Ed. (Paris, 2006), 199–213; P-Y. Hénin, Le plan Schlieffen. Un mois de guerre, deux siècles de controverse (Paris, 2012), 22–35, 67–70; J.-J. Langendorf, Krieg führen: Antoine-Henri Jomini (Zürich, 2008); Langendorf, La pensée militaire prussienne. Etudes de Frédéric Le Grand à Schlieffen, ed. N. Gex (Paris, 2012).

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expressed by selected military writers. These opinions do not examine contemporary military regulations and other official documents, resulting in unjustifiably attributing to military writers a leading role in shaping military thought in a given army. This work has been largely determined by the state of extant Prussian army archive materials, particularly those concerning institutional matters and opinions of officials in the armed forces of the Hohenzollern monarchy. Extant sources do not allow for full documentation. The most representative are documents from the years 1815–1829. Valuable documents from an institutional point of view regard defence planning in the 1821–1829 period. The crises between 1830 and 1833 are also documented. However, sources for the entire 1830s decade are sparse, providing insights only into certain aspects of the planning process. The situation for the 1840–1848 period is worse. Apart from the Second Rhine Crisis,40 only the general direction of Prussian defence preparations is known. All attempts to reconstruct military thought from an institutional point of view for the years 1848–1857 have ended in failure. What extant documents have been found do not shed light on issues derived from official German historiography before 1945. A considerable problem is the scarcity of official sources on Prussian army plans and actions in the years 1848–1850, for which reason the period is chiefly seen through secondary works of questionably objectivity.41 Although one could discuss important theoretical works of the 1830–1857 period, the difficulty of comparing them with an institutional point of view hinders the study. Potential sources in German archives have recently been discovered by Vanya Eftimova Bellinger. Thanks to this excellent 40

41

Second Rhine Crisis of 1840 was a diplomatic crisis between France and the German Confederation, caused by the demand by French Minister Adolphe Thiers that the river Rhine be reinstated as France’s border in the east. These claims reinforced resentment among the Germans against the against the French, and increased nationalism on both sides. Crisis passed without war breaking out, led however the German Confederation to extend the fortifications of Mainz, Ulm, and Rastatt, while the Kingdom of Bavaria built the fortress at Germersheim. In Prussia was considering the conduct of offensive war against France; See. R.D. Billinger jr, ‘They sing the best Song badly: Metternich, Frederick William iv, and the German Confederation during the War Scare of 1840–1841’, Deutscher Bund und deutsche Frage 1815–1866: europäische Ordnung, deutsche Politik und gesellschaftlicher Wandel im Zeitalter der bürgerlich-nationalen Emanzipation, ed. H. Rumpler (Vienna, Munich, 1990), 94–113; W. Deutsch, ‘Die Mission von Hess und Radowitz 1840’, Gesamtdeutsche Vergangenheit. Festgabe für Heinrich Ritter von Srbik zum 60. Geburstag am 10. November (Munich, 1938), 255–265; I. Veit-Brause, Die deutsch-französische Krise von 1840. Studium zum deutschen Einheitsbewegung, PhD thesis, Universität zu Köln, 1967. E.g. L. Dehio, ‘Zur November-Krise des Jahres 1850. Aus den Papieren des Kriegsministers von Stockhausen’, Forschungen zur Brandenburgischen und Preußischen Geschichte 35 (1923), 134–145.

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scholar,42 a previously all-but-unknown collection of letters discovered at the Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz (GStA pk) in Berlin-Dahlem between Clausewitz and his wife provide invaluable information about his life and work. Her book based on this source43 presents the influence of Marie von Clausewitz on the writing of Vom Kriege. Her yet to be published book is a complex study of the last year of Carl von Clausewitz’s life in the broad context of events in the years of 1830–1831.44 Considering the ground breaking nature of work,45 I have excluded the subject it concerns from my monograph. The end of the Napoleonic wars left Prussia in a new geopolitical reality with a host of challenges. The thorough analysis of the Napoleonic period had a profound impact on shaping the Prussian art of war. The reconstruction of Prussian military power was carried out by veterans of the Wars of Liberation, who contributed conclusions from the 1806–1815 campaign. The date of the July Revolution in France ended an era of relative peace in Europe, marking a watershed in Prussian military history and beginning a period of combat readiness in Prussia that lasted until 1833. A main aim of this work is to shed light on the ignored period prior to the 1832 publication of Clausewitz’s first volume, while trying to separate it from the context of its author. 1

Determinants of the Study of the History of the Prussian Army in the 19th Century

All problems concerning studies regarding the history of the Prussian and German armies results from the destruction of archival materials following a British air raid on the 14th of April 1945. Some of its destruction was caused by the Germans themselves on the orders of Oberkommando des Heeres, who had historical sources which had been evacuated to Tyrol and Bavaria, including documents from the 19th century, burned after the Allies entered those provinces. 42 43 44 45

A description of the whole process is found on the author’s blog, The Other Clausewitz: http://clausewitz.com/blogs/VBellinger/ (access: 21/09/2015). The materials are deposited at the Buttlar-Venedien family collection. V.E. Bellinger, Marie von Clausewitz: The Woman Behind the Making of On War (Oxford, 2015). Bellinger, ‘Carl von Clausewitz’s Last Campaign Cholera, the Campaign of 1831, and the Lessons Never Written Down’, ms, pending publication. I had the privilege to read the manuscript of this work in June 2018 as one of its reviewers in the Recovering Forgotten History project, organised by the Foundation for Civic Space and Public Policy; http://civicspace.org.pl/en/konferencja/16th-conference/ (access: 29/12/2018).

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As German officials responsible for carrying out the order decided to preserve the oldest of the documents and artefacts, invaluable sources concerning key figures in Prussian history were saved,46 although irreversible losses, however, considerably hindered the study of German military history. The question of materials in particular lost, contemporary authors assign the destruction of military documents from 1935/1936 deposited in the Potsdam Heeresarchiv.47 A full appraisal of extant archival documents, however, requires an analysis of the history of Prussian army materials. This subject, outlined by Major General Curt Jany,48 is of value as it was written by a person responsible for the survival of Prussian army materials. Until 1918, these military documents were found in three institutions: Secret War Chancellery Archive (Das Archiv des Geheimen Kriegskanzlei), Secret Archive of the Ministry of War (Das Geheime Archivs des Kriegsministeriums), and Great General Staff Military Archive (Das Kriegsarchiv des Großem Generalstabs). The first was to contain personal files, the second documents concerning economic matters, and the third all other military documents. The Ministry of War and General Staff archives held a considerable part of the General Command and fortress commandant materials,49 the latter of which, according to Jany, preserved a collection of diverse printed and manuscript documents intended for the purpose of writing military history books. Established in 1873, the Secret War Chancellery Archive continued practices which, since 1655, had collected materials regarding military matters coming into the monarchy. From 1809 these documents had been entrusted to successive institutions performing the role of the Royal Military Cabinet. The Archive contained letters passing through the royal secretariat, especially those from 1787 onwards: the correspondence of royal adjutants, matters concerning officers, intelligences, lists, reports from parades and manoeuvres, and salaries. From 1877, older files considered unnecessary to the institution’s current operations began to be transferred to the Ministry and General Staff. Many documents at that time were found to be missing.50 Founded in December 1839, the Kriegsministerium archive primarily included registries of files concerning the oldest collections, copies of cabinet orders 46

B. Poll, ‘Vom Schicksal der deutschem Heeresakten und der amtlichen Kriegsgeschichtsschreibung’, Der Archivar. Mitteilungsblatt für deutsches Archivwesen 2 (1953), 73–74; K. Ruppert, ‘Heeresarchiv Potsdam 1936–1945’, Der Archivar. Mitteilungsblatt für deutsches Archivwesen 4 (1950), 179–180. 47 Pöhlmann, Kriegsgeschichte, 29–30; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 53–54. 48 Jany, ‘Die preußischen Militärarchive’, Forschungen zur Brandenburgischen und Preußischen Geschichte 36 (1924), 67–86. 49 Ibid., 67. 50 Ibid., 68–71.

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recorded as they were given (Kabinettsordres), as well as documents coming from the Ministry departments. For these files, a catalogue of collections up to the year 1846 was formed. According to Jany, by 1858 this institution possessed a large collection of materials, including valuable documents on the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars, as well as older documents that had been passed on to the General Staff. Over the subsequent decade a considerable part of older registers was destroyed and the archive itself became increasingly disorganised. This state of affairs became apparent in 1876, when plans were made to publish a collection of documents concerning the history of Prussian reforms in the years 1797–1819. With over 10,000 original Kabinettsordres found to be disorganised, measures were taken to restore order. In 1886, a committee was appointed that had files returned.51 The 1816 General Staff collection is of key importance to Prussian military history. The collection took over the function of the old Plankammer, which in the time of Frederick William i collected maps, battle and fortress plans, all reports of foreign armed forces, territories, and strongholds, as well as news of significant events from a military point of view, from manoeuvres to wars. In addition, the archive possessed numerous documents from the Silesian Wars and legacies of generals.52 The General Staff Archive was important as a centre for the collection of information relevant to the eventuality of the outbreak of an armed conflict.53 An extant instruction from the first half of the 19th century reveals that the archive was to keep all operation plan projects, descriptions of potential theatres of war, field studies, intelligence information, reports from individual General Commands, studies of the history of Prussian army operations, as well as the logs of individual army units and gs officers.54 Unfortunately, precise information on what materials were in the archive prior to 1918, or the conditions in which they were kept, is not available. Due to extant lists and inventories, on the other hand, we are able to assess materials the archive contained up to 1945. In the spring of 1918, Great General Staff (ggs) 51 Ibid., 77–79. 52 Ibid., 79. 53 Ibid., 80; ‘Allerhöchste Kabinettsorder vom 28sten August 1814, betreffend die Deparatements-­Eintheilung des Kriegsministerii’, Gesetz-Sammlung für die Königlich Preußischen Staaten 1814 (Berlin, 1815), 77–78; Kriegsministerium, Das Königl. Preußische Kriegsministerium 1809 · 1. März ·1909 (Berlin, 1909), 19–21. 54 Berlin-Dahlem, Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz (henceforth GStA pk), vi. Hauptabteilung (henceforth ha), Rep. 5 Großer Generalstab, Zentral- und Fachabteilungen (henceforth Rep. 5), No. 3, Über die Bestimmung des Generalstabes der preußischen Armeen, [13th July 1821?], 4–15; ibid., Konzept: Instruktion für den großen Generalstab, with two appendixes, Berlin, 29th March 1822, 16–28.

12

Introduction

files produced up to 1858 were added to the Secret Archive of the Ministry of War ­collection and the older part of the Secret War Chancellery Archive, the so-called Heeresarchiv. After the surrender of Germany and the dissolution of military archives, all such documents were put under the care of the Reichsarchiv in Potsdam, founded on the 18th of June 1919. A policy took place in 1924, when in accordance with an agreement between Secret State Archives Prussian Cultural Heritage in Berlin-Dahlem (GStA pk) and the Reichsarchiv, all former army documents were segregated into groups. As a general rule, the division line was 1866/1867, which was when the North German Confederation was formed. Documents before that period, with certain exceptions, were to go to Dahlem and the balance to the Reichsarchiv (to this day referred to as the Berlin Branch). Behind this decision was an interest in securing recent documents, especially those from the Great War. Documents were transferred in the years 1924–1925 and 1935 to the GStA pk, where the Heeresarchiv was formed. They included the following collections: the Secret Chancellery Archive up to 1874; the Military Cabinet; the Oberkriegskollegium; the Ministry of War; Great General Staff files up to 1858; documents of particular General Commands, as well as the General Inspectorate of Military Education and Training.55 The Dahlem archive also contained numerous legacies of Prussian officers.56 It was not until the 1st of April 1936 that the two institutions were united in the Potsdam based Heeresarchiv,57 where their collections remained in Abteilung A until the evacuation and fire of the years 1944–1945.58 Although constant transformations had an impact on the collections, records made each time the documents were transferred59 to an extent make it possible to assess the contents of the Dahlem and Potsdam archives. The ­Military Cabinet fonds (He. A. Rep. 2)60 included few documents from 55

Jany, ‘Die preußischen Militärarchive’, 83–84; H.O. Meisner, G. Winter, Übersicht über die Bestände des Geheimen Staatsarchivs zu Berlin-Dahlem (Mitteilungen der preussischen Archivverwaltung) 25, part 2: ii.-ix. Hauptabteilung (Leipzig, 1935), 57–59. 56 E. Müller, E. Posner, Übersicht über die Bestände des Geheimen Staatsarchivs zu BerlinDahlem. I. Hauptabteilung (Mitteilungen der preussischen Archivverwaltung) 24 (Leipzig, 1934), 99–130. The extant files of Boyen and Müffling should be distinguished as potentially interesting documents. Unfortunately, the archive does not include the legacies of other key figures of the 1815–1857 period (e.g. Grolman, Krauseneck, Hake, etc.). 57 Freiburg im Breisgau, Bundesarchiv Abteilung Militärarchiv (hereafter BA-MA), Chef des Heeresarchiv, rh 18/176, Entwurf: Reichskriegsminister und Oberbefehlshaber der Wehrmacht Generaloberst Wilhelm von Blomberg an Reichs-und Preußische Minister des Innern Wilhelm Frick, 27th January 1936, s.p. 58 Ruppert, ‘Heeresarchiv’, 178. 59 These materials have been preserved at the BA-MA and GStA pk. 60 BA-MA, rh 18/562, Verzeichnis des Akten des Heeresarchivs im Geheimen Staatsarchiv, s. t., 5–10; Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 66–69.

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the ­1815–1857 period. By far the most interesting was the Cabinet register for the years 1818–1868, including documents concerning mobilisation, manoeuvres, military attaché reports, and army training. It also included 30 collections of missing files from what had been destroyed by an action ordered in 1875.61 The Ministry of War fonds (He. A. Rep. 4)62 is extensive and includes numerous institutional documents concerning fortresses, garrisons, as well as various aspects of how the army functioned in peacetime. There are also some of the General Staff files (Restbestand), specifically those that emerged after the dissolution of the 2nd Department of Ministry of War in 1825 (He. A. Rep. 4 2 Dep).63 According to the list, the only preserved documents were ones ­concerning the Ministry’s Mobilisation Department (He. A. Rep. 4 A M).64 In general, with regard to war doctrines, the Kriegsministerium materials are of limited value. The greatest significance in this matter should be attributed to archive files in the Great General Staff fonds (He. A. Rep 5, previously Kap. xxvii).65 It’s state of preservation in late 1930 indicates its accessibility in the period before 1945. The materials were divided into eight parts. Those marked Z (=Zentralabteilung)66 were divided into two subgroups. The first comprised 145 archival units from when the ggs was part of the Ministry of War. Among them one can point to officers’ annual travel study files for the years 1816–1822 (34–39), the affairs of all three Kriegstheater sections in the years 1816–1824 (61–71), materials concerning the Military History Section (72–73), and surveying work conducted in France in the years 1816–1819 (94–112). Near equal is the group of files, 134 in all, created after 1821. They include correspondence concerning the western Kriegstheater in the years 1830–1845 (721–734), annual reports on the state of the French army 1846–1849 (735–737), annual reports (Jahresberichte) of the ggs in the years 1822–1857 (1241–1245), assignments for gs officers in the years 1821–1860, materials concerning every Kriegstheater section in the 1821–1858 period (1551–1558, 1564–1571, 1579–1583), military history section materials 1821–1855 (1579–1583), and the editorials of MilitairWochenblatt journals 1824–1860 (1861). In the next group of materials marked 61 Cf. Die Reorganisation des Preussischen Staates unter Stein und Hardenberg, part 2: Das preussische Heer vom Tilsiter Frieden bis zur Befreiung 1807–1814, ed. R. Vaupel, vol. ii, part 1 (Leipzig, 1938), vii. 62 BA-MA, rh 18/562, Verzeichnis, 13–61; Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 74–96. 63 Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 82. 64 Ibid., 84. 65 Ibid., 103–107. 66 Ibid., 105; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse der Registratur des Großen Generalstabes, 1816–1859, s.t., 4–16.

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zd (=Zentral Direktorium des Vermessung),67 144 files in all, one may distinguish engineering and geographic examination works (2–14) and Kriegstheater materials for the years 1848–1860 (60). Marked i (=Erste Abteilung) are a total of 97 archival units.68 According to the description of the published inventory, these were materials concerning reconnaissance of the armies and territories of Austria, Russia, Turkey, Denmark, and England, among which worthy of particular attention are files on the activities of Moltke the Elder in the Middle East. Similarly, marked ii (=Zweite Abteilung)69 is the large section concerning complete descriptions of provinces in Prussia, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Switzerland, and Italy, including projects on attacking or defending particular territories. The section includes 12 lists, containing in total more than 1,500 files. Most relevant would seem to be collections of reconnaissance documents concerning specific Prussian provinces (iv), the attack and defence of particular territories (vii), fortifications (viii), as well as the reconnaissance of roads and positions (x). In the first group,70 containing 143 archival units, one should note materials concerning the reconnaissance of territories to the east of the Elbe carried out in May 1817 by Karl von Grolman (file 295).71 In addition to this, the collection included numerous descriptions of operation goals made by gs officers concerning, for instance, Posen (Poznań) in 1816 (308), the area between the Warthe (Warta) and the Netze (Noteć) in 1820 (310), Silesian territories carried out by Karl von der Groeben in the years 1817–1818 and 1823 (325–326, 328–329),72 precise descriptions of the Pomerania region for the central Kriegstheater of the years 1817–1823 (333–334, 337),73 a special reconnaissance of territory between Wrocław (Breslau) and Berlin in 1817 (358), a special 67 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse der Registratur des Großen Generalstabes, 1816–1859, s.t., 30–35; Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 105. 68 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 37–44; Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 105. 69 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 47–117; Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 105–106. 70 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 57–66. 71 A copy of those travels has survived to this day; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 B Militärgeschichte (hereafter Rep 15 B), No. 55, Bemerkungen über Ost-Preussen, 1817, 42–72. 72 The drafts of these materials: GStA pk, vi. ha, Nachlass Karl v. d. Groeben (hereafter Groeben), No. i Ca 6, Generalstabsreise, intus: Reise nach Westfalen, Geschichte von Osnabrück, Friedrich der Grossen Feldzügen in Westfalen, 1820; ibid., No. i Ca 7, Generalstabsreise im Jahr 1821, s.p.; ibid., No. i Ca 8, Generalstabsreisen im Jahr 1822, s.p.; ibid., No. i Ca 9, Generalstabsreisen im Jahr 1823, s.p. 73 Some of them have been preserved in the collections of Kartenabteilung, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin Preußischer Kulturbesitz (hereafter sbb pk); sbb pk, Denkschiften des Preußischen Generalstabes (hereafter pdk), xxviii Pommern, No. 2, Hauptmann von Gerlach, Oestlisches Kriegs Theater Pommern, Bemerkungen über die Vertheidigungs fähigkeit von Hinter Pommern, 1817, s.p.; ibid., No. 3, Lieutnant A. Moliere, Beurtheilung von Pommern, s.l., 1820, s.p.

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reconnaissance of territory between Berlin, Frankfurt (Oder), and Küstrin (Kostrzyn nad Odrą) in 1817 (359), a description of areas on the central Weser in 1818 (364), as well as descriptions of areas around Cologne and Koblenz in the years 1821–1822 (368–369). This fond indicates considerable research potential as it focuses on the period before 1830. The situation is quite different with the next group (51),74 which if it had been preserved, would have been a fundamental source for studies of Prussian strategic thought. Many materials in this group concern the 1840s and 1850s, but also a copy of the well-known memorandum by Grolman in May 1817 (474), a study by the General Staff officer in Prussia Generalkommando Major Ludwig von Auer on the defence of East Prussia in 1817 (487),75 similar studies of an anonymous author in 1820 (489), a report by Karl von Müffling on the principles of the concentration of forces in the event of an attack on the Grand Duchy of the Lower Rhine in 1817 (532), a report on the location of Prussian military provinces on the Rhine prepared by the commander of the vii Army Corps, General Karl Ernst von Hake in 1817 (533), comments regarding the plan of future war against France in 1830 by Carl von Clausewitz (534), and the plan for the defence of the Rhineland proposed by Hermann von Boyen in 1833 (535). Some of the these memoranda have survived76 or were the subject of past editions.77 Some we know from references in other sources.78 An exceptionally extensive section concerned 74 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 63v-66. 75 There might be a connotation to this unsigned and undated document; GStA pk, vi. ha, Nachlass Hermann von Boyen (hereafter Boyen), No. 332, Abschrift: Spezielle Anordnungen im Preußischen General Kommando, [July 1816?], 40-42v. 76 This in particular applies to Grolman’s study Über die Verteidigung der Länder vom rechten Ufer der Elbe bis zur Memel of 22nd May 1817, which has surved in at least several copies: ibid., No. 331, 2–25; GStA pk, vi. ha, Rep. 15 B Militärgeschichte (hereafter Rep 15B), No. 55; GStA pk, BPH, Rep. 58 III, Nachlass Prinz August von Preussen (hereafter bph, Rep. 57 iii), No. 187. Moreover, the content and circumstances of the creation of Müffling’s project are also known; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 48, Memoire an Wellington und Metternich über Maßnahmen im Fall eines französ. Angriffs, 1818, 7–12. An interesting though of somewhat ambiguous significance with regard to Prussian strategy is the often quoted memorandum of Boyen; ibid., No. 506, Versuch eines Vertheidigungs Plans für die Rhein Provinzen, geschrieben in März 1833. 77 This of course concerns in particular the letters of Clausewitz; ‘Mittheilungen aus dem Archive des Königlichen Kriegsministeriums ii. Zwei Denkschriften von Clausewitz 1830/1831’, Militair-Wochenblatt (mwb) 82, 29 (1891), 757–765; 30 (1891), 786–795; 31 (1891), 817–822; ‘Betrachtungen über einen künftigen Kriegsplan gegen Frankreich 1830’, C. von Clausewitz, Verstreute kleine Schriften, ed. W. Hahlweg (Osnabrück, 1979), 533–663. 78 E.g. to Hake’s study; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Hake an v. Boyen: Bericht an den König über die militärische Lage der preuß. Provinzen am Rhein, Einleitung der Befestigungsarbeiten, Koblenz, 2nd January 1817, 8–9. The text was only mentioned here as sent.

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­fortifications.79 It comprises 153 files, of which many originated from the 1830s and 40s. Part of these materials have survived in the collections of the Kartenabteilung Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin (sbb pk), where they probably found their way in 1919 along with over 200,000 maps.80 They concerned, for example, comments about castles and fortresses in Silesia made by Grolman during his 1816 reconnaissance (590 files)81 and Gustav von Rauch’s assessments of fortresses in places such as Schweidnitz (Świdnica) in 1819 (592).82 The collection of materials in the Berlin library is far from complete, as testified in the analysis of the old and current inventories. Unfortunately, a fundamental collection concerning roads and positions, seen from an operational point of view, is even less complete. The inventory shows enormous research potential, yet even parts of 305 archival units can not be reproduced. The situation is similar with regard to other archival materials in this library concerning fortresses and assessments of the armed forces of certain European countries under the same and subsequent shelf marks (5. iii= Dritte Abteilung, 6. iv= Vierte Abteilung, 7. ix = Neunte Abteilung).83 Materials marked in the official inventory as unsorted were a separate category,84 which have, nonetheless, retained detailed lists from when they were transferred to a new military archive.85 There are five in total, including 293 files in all. List No. I comprised 53 archival units, included GeneralstabsreisenÜbungsreisen from the 1816–1859 period (1–25 files), files concerning manoeuvres in the years 1820–1858 (26–49), and Militair-Wochenblatt from the years 1816–1871 (50). The next list (6 items) featured two files concerning military censorship in the years 1823–1903 (56–57) and a collective file concerning Übungsreisen and Recognoscirungsreisen in the 1816–1853 period (58). The subsequent, short list (11 files) included assessments of manoeuvre reports from 79 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 69v-77. 80 Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 58, 224–227; the catalogue for these collections is entitled ‘xxiv Denkschriften-Katalog’, unfortunately, there is no explanation of how it was created. Perhaps some of the extant documents had existed in several copies. 81 sbb pk, pdk, xxxiii Schlesien, No. 126, Karl von Grolman, Bemerkungen über die Schloesser Lähn, Bolkenhaim, Schweinhaus, über das Kloster Leubus und über die Schweidnitz, Breslau, Brieg und Glogau, [copy], s.l., 10th June 1816, s.p. 82 sbb pk, pdk, xxxiv Schweidnitz, No. 97, Gustav von Rauch, Über die Festung Schweidnitz, Berlin, March 1819, s.p. 83 Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 106. I was unable to find inventories concerning these divisions. The file concerning the 4th and 7th ggs Division contains a list of documents from the turn of the 20th century; BA-MA, rh 18/1203, Verzeichnis der von der 4. Und 7. Abteilung des ehem. Großen Generalstabes übernommenen Akten, s.t. 84 Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 106. 85 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 18–27.

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1823–1840 (60–61). Of key importance without doubt is list No. 5, among whose 80 files were ggs officers’ personal documents from the years 1821–1859 (73– 79), examination papers 1847–1859 (80–82), examination papers for officers assigned to Paris, 1831–1857 (93–96), Übungsreisen 1821–1857 (97–151). List vii featured 54 archival units, including mwb accounts for the 1825–1867 period (157–160); List viia featured 31 archival units, including 23 volumes of Kabinettsorders from the years 1820–1858 (215–237). Finally, list xi featured numerous ggs correspondence books for the 1816–1859 period (239–293). The second part of the ggs materials was the Kriegsarchiv collection (He. A. Rep 15A). Following numerous inclusions, files concerning the Silesian, Revolutionary, and Napoleonic wars predominated. Kapitel lv in this collection grouped theoretical works on military events in Prussia in the years 1818–1849, with the oldest materials concerning the mobilisation of forces on the eastern border during the November Uprising.86 The remaining documents concerned the Spring of Nations. Kap. lvi concerned all non-war events in the years 1815–1866. They included descriptions of manoeuvres, staff rides, some ­ ­mobilisation plans (from 1831 and 1850), matters concerning fortresses, and possibly the concept fore an operation plan against Switzerland in 1857.87 A partial supplement to this matter is found in the GStA pk fonds, in the form of lists, catalogues,88 and inventories89 from the years 1924–1925. For the 86

The November Uprising or Polish–Russian War 1830–31 was an armed insurrection in Kingdom of Poland against the Russian Empire. The uprising began on 29th November 1830 in Warsaw when the young Polish officers and cadets from the Army of the Congress Poland’s revolted, led by Lieutenant Piotr Wysocki. Large areas of Lithuania, Belarus, and the Right-bank Ukraine soon joined the uprising. The insurgents achieved initially local successes against Russian army commanded by Hans von Diebitsch. A numerically superior imperial forces eventually crushed the uprising. Kingdom of Poland has loose its autonomy and become an integral part of the Russian Empire; See. J.A. Betley, Belgium and Poland in International Relations 1830–1831, (Mouton, 1960); J. Jalonen, On Behalf of the Emperor, on Behalf of the Fatherland: Finnish Officers and Soldiers of the Russian Imperial Life-Guard on the Battlefields of Poland, 1831 (Leiden-Boston, 2015); R.F. Leslie, Polish politics and the Revolution of November 1831 (Westport Connecticut, 1969). 87 Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 220–221. 88 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 A, Großer Generalstab, Kriegsarchiv der Kriegsgeschichtlichen Abteilung (herafter Rep. 15 A), No. 426, Verzeichnis der neugeordneten Akten des ­Generalstabs-Archivs (Enthält verschiedene Akten des Zentr. Abt. d. Pr. G. Stab.), Kapitel 56, April 1922; ibid., No. 457, In Septembers 1913, durch einem neuen Katalog erfast.; ibid., No. 860, Katalog des Kregs-Archivs. iii; ibid., No. 868, Catalog der Aktenstücke von 1813, 1814, 1815 und den folgenden Jahren. 89 Ibid., No. 883, Heeresarchiv, Rep. 15 A, Kapitel 55; ibid., No. 884, Kriegs-Archiv, Sektion ii, Kap. xiv; ibid., No. 885, Section ii, Kapitel xvi u. xvii; ibid., No. 886, Kriegs-Archiv, Sektion ii, Kap. xxvii Z u. I. [19th February 1925?].

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­ ost-Napoleonic period, the ggs historical archive chiefly concerns the crises p in the 1830s and 40s.90 An analysis of the few documents concerning peacetime functioning of various institutions shows that that they mainly originated from the legacies of Hermann von Boyen the Elder, August Neidhardt von Gneisenau, and Philipp von Wussow.91 Fortunately many of the most valuable files concerning the first two can be found in the fonds at Dahlem today.92 The situation is worse with the once large Wussow legacy,93 with only insignificant remnants remaining. In the past the fonds of certain General Commands (He. A. Rep 12B Gen.-Kommandos) were already incomplete, although according to the inventories their usefulness was comparable to that of Ministry of War files.94 Materials that survived the conflagration and ordered destruction were divided between victorious powers. The files captured by the Americans were microfilmed and returned to the Federal Republic of Germany.95 The journey of materials taken by the Soviet Union is more interesting. Most were considered for a long time as having been destroyed. According to documentation concerning the return of files that emerged in November 1978, following the involvement of Olaf Groehler in the Committee for the History of the Great Patriotic War, the ussr was still in possession of the collections captured in 1945. At the time, it was said that the documents chiefly concerned the Second World War. Nevertheless, when Nationale Volksarmee authorities began to

90

Ibid., No. 868, Catalog der Aktenstücke, 2–98; ibid., No. 883, Heeresarchiv, Rep. 15 A, 1–6; ibid., No. 884, Kriegs-Archiv, Sektion ii, 5–33. 91 Ibid., No. 884, Kriegs-Archiv, Sektion ii, 34–70, 104–108. 92 For example, the content of one of several files in the Strategy chapter, reference Section ii, Cap. xiv, 793, corresponds to the fully persevered Boyen legacy, file No. 331, containing the best known view of Prussian strategy in the years 1815–1819. This is further confirmed by other references in the file. Section ii, Cap. xiv, 903 in the Fortresses chapter contains another key file, No. 332, from the Boyen legacy, including correspondence regarding defence of Prussia’s eastern border. Both files were the basis for Meinecke’s views on that subject and today a major source of knowledge. This, in my opinion, might suggest that the collection that was available to researchers before 1918 was similar to the one we know today. 93 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 A, No. 449, Inventarien-Verzeichnis des v. Wussow-schen Nachlass 1790–1863 No 4. 94 Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 128–131. 95 Ibid., 180. Microfilms from the legacies of Boyen, Gneisenau, Frederick William iii, as well as many other materials temporarily held in the Congress Library in Washington D.C., are now at the American National Archives; https://catalog.archives.gov/id/569?fbclid=IwAR0v0pz cDD9vXVSKoAS7mK-ccezn65Kac8D2p7ogcsjTg3OwHTAftK30Hyg (access: 30/06/2020).

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monitor the case96 it was established that an archive in Podolsk (tsamo), in fonds 15, 23, 32, 35, 202, 208, 213, 221, 241, 235, 236, 317, 319, 6598, and in unsorted Fonds 500, there were 2,300 ggs archival units from the years 1824–1918.97 Following consultations between the rkka deputy chief of General Staff and East German deputy minister of defence from 29 November to 3 December 1988, terms for transferring the archival sources to the East German side were established.98 This occurred on the 18th of December 1988, when a special rail transport delivered around 40 tons of documents.99 An assessment carried out from the 6th of January to the 10th of February 1989 established that there were 3,124 archival units (49 metres) from the years 1788–1922. 625 files from the former Kriegsarchivs des Großen Generalstabes, 30 files from the Ministry of War, and 30 files from the General Staff were considered the most valuable. Equally important was the return of materials from the Kriegsgeschichtliche Forschungsanstalt des Heeres. A fuller assessment of the sources was made possible by a comparison and listing of the documents on the 12th of July 1989.100 According to an updated version, there were 3,239 archival units from the years 1716–1944. Nine of them were from the Military Cabinet (1819–1919); 1,617 from Ministry of War (1769–1818), including four archival units from 1st Departement (1769– 1818), three from Zentraldepartement (1823–1920); 13 from Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement (1813–1919); three from the Geheime Kriegskanzlei (1760–1918); 1,574 archival units of personal documents (1797–1944); 1,018 archival units from the General Staff (1716–1919), including one unit from Departement im Kriegsministerium (1817–1819), two from Generalstab der Armee (1821–1845); 379 from Großer Generalstab (1879–1919); 654 from Kriegsarchiv des Großen Generalstabes (1716–1914); and 42 archival units from General Commands. Noticeable in this list is the fragmentary nature of previously described ggs 96

BA-MA, Militärarchiv Potsdam, dvw 3-3/126601, Aktennotiz über eine Aussprache mit Oberst Pätzold, persönlicher Referent des Stellvertreters des Ministers und Chef des Hauptstabes, am 14.11.1978, Potsdam, 16th November 1978, s.p. 97 Ibid., Auflistung der Aktivitäten für die Dienstreise in das Archiv des Verteidigungsministerium des UdSRR, Podolsk bei Moskau, im Juni 1988, s.l., s.t., s.p.; ibid., Bericht Oberst Siegmund [Über die Konsultation im Generalstab des Streitkräfte des UdSRR zu Fragen der Übergabe von Deutschen Archivdokumenten militärischer Herkunft und das Militärarchiv der ddr], s.l., 13th July 1988, s.p. 98 Ibid., Bericht über die Dienstreise zum Generalstab der Streitkräfte des UdSRR, December 1988, s.p. 99 Ibid., Bericht über die Übernahme und Bearbeitung von Archivgut aus der UdSRR, s.l., s.t., s.p. 100 BA-MA, dvw 3-3/126551, Z-2111 Übersicht Neuzugang preußische Akten aus Podolsk, Potsdam, 12th July 1989, s.p.; ibid., Bestandübersicht über die Neuzugänge an preußischen Akten, Potsdam, 12th July 1989, s.p.

20

Introduction

d­ ocuments prior to 1857, of which only three files remain. An analysis of the list,101 reveals these documents as the most valuable source of knowledge on the functioning of that institution in the first half of the 19th century.102 These materials, together with returned unpublished works from the 1920s and 30s, constitute a starting point for this attempt to study the Prussian army.103 This history of the Prussian army archival materials is fundamental to the assessment of the state of research into Prussian strategic concepts. We are forced to rely on secondary works written before important documents were destroyed. It is difficult to ascertain what sources were used by scholars before 1918. Although we know the titles of individual files, we do not know their exact content. What is more, we cannot confirm the existence of documents in the whole period before 1945. Caution in drawing conclusions from historical literature from before the end of the Second World War is justified. There can be no doubt that military institutions had a decisive influence on access to historical sources, as well as to how they were used. During the 19th century, an official historiography was created by specialised military institutions in Prussia. The Historical Section, founded in 1816, in the second half of the 19th century acquired a dominant influence on how Prussian military history was presented.104 This was significant because from 1823 all literature concerning military matters was subject to censorship, which became even more strict. In 1842, Minister Boyen issued detailed instructions defining the responsibilities of officers. They were obliged to avoid all issues that could potentially damage 101 Ibid., Übersetzung aus dem Russischen: Bezeichnung der Akten des Großen Generalstabes, der Geschichte Deutschlands im 18. Und 19. Jahrhundert, in der Zeit von 1890 bis 1913, in der Zeit des 1. Weltkrieges von 1193 bis 1919 und in der Zeit zwischen dem 1. Und dem 2. Wetlkrieg. Grenzdaten von Dokumentenmaterial 18.-20. Jhrdt., ­September 1988, s.p. 102 Here, I am primarily referring to a file entitled ‘Organisation des Großen Generalstabes’ with documents form the years 1814–1849, kept in Dahlem; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, Nos. 1–3. 103 It is worth mentioning that the process of returning German military documents is finished. The aforementioned unsorted Fonds 500 was several years ago the subject of the ‘Russian-German project for digitizing German documents in the archives of the Russian Federation’. The range of accessible materials clearly shows that the Russian archives might very well still hold many materials officially considered to have been destroyed; http://tsamo.germandocsinrussia.org/de/nodes/1-germanskie-dokumenty-pervoy-mirovoy-voyny-tsamo-fond-500-opis-12519 (access: 11/12/2018). 104 R. Brühl, Militärgeschichte und Kriegspolitik: zur Militärgeschichtsschreibung des preußisch-deutschen Generalstabes 1816–1945 (Leipzig, 1972), 44–49; S. Lange, Hans Delbrück und der ‘Strategiestreit’. Kriegführung und Kriegsgeschichte in der Kontroverse 1879–1914 (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1995), 50–54; M. Raschke, Der politisierende Generalstab. Die friderizianischen Kriege in der amtlichen deutschen Militärgeschichtsschreibung 1890– 1914 (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1993), 63–72.

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the interests of the state; they were forbidden to write without the consent of their superiors on official matters regarding the country’s defence, fortifications, and war preparations, and were also obliged to report to their superiors before undertaking to independent research on these subjects. Interpretation of these regulations became more authoritarian after 1848.105 Dissatisfaction with unrestricted discussions among veterans of the 1864–1866 wars drove Moltke to acquire in 1871 permission to obligate all those who had participated in the war with France to consult the content of their publications with the Chief of the General Staff. The authors of works inconsistent with the official line suffered unpleasant consequences, as future Field Marshal Colmar von der Goltz would discover in 1877.106 A certain relaxation in publication regulations became evident in the years 1889–1896 with efforts undertaken first by William ii and later by the Ministry of War.107 In 1896, however, the General Staff called for a further tightening of regulations for officers publishing works regarding military history. On the 22nd of January 1897, new regulations imposed strict adherence to military rules of secrecy and an obligation to acquire permission from the Ministry for the publication of materials of an official nature or those marked as secret. Any documents or information relating to military operations required permission and references had to be made to sources. All works concerning war events had to be presented to the General Staff for approval. The consequences for officers not complying with these rules were announced on the 1st of January 1904.108 These rules remained unchanged until the outbreak of the First World War.109 This likely explains why officers omitted in their memoirs their peacetime years of service, even if published long after the war. Censorship affected the army itself. One such case is that of Müffling who was forced to resign because of his use of sources in the Secret State Archive when writing on the Silesian Wars monograph since the minister of internal affairs had imposed their censorship, especially those regarding opinions critical of Frederick the Great.110 After 1918, retaining control over military documents became one of the most important concerns of officers from the dissolved General Staff. N ­ aturally, this primarily concerned materials regarding the Great War and preceding 105 ‘Über militärisches Schrifttum im preußisch-deutschen Heere von Scharnhorst bis zum Weltkriege’, Militärwissenschaftliche Rundschau (mwr) 3, 4 (1938), 467. 106 Ibid., 468–469. 107 Ibid., 471–474. 108 Ibid., 474–475. 109 Ibid., 476. 110 M. von Duvernoy, ‘Das Generalstabswerk über die Kriege Friedrichs der Grossen’, Preußische Jahrbücher (pj) 1 (1901), 97.

22

Introduction

­ eriod, but the approach adopted to explain the defeat required interpretap tions of phenomena concerning the entire 19th century. The mythologising of the ‘Schlieffen Plan’ and the General Staff lead in a direct line to over-­ interpreting phenomena of the past in an attempt to confirm certain doctrine. Military history was seen as a way to preserve continuity with views of the past in preparation for the next conflict; the Reichsarchiv became the custodian of the ‘secret of victory’.111 Archival materials concerning military matters up to 1867 were initially under the strict control of the army. Although the Reichsarchiv was officially a civilian institution, the majority of its staff were officers of the former General Staff Military History Department (Kriegsgeschichtliche Abteilung).112 Reluctance towards ‘private’ literature led to restrictions in the use of materials from dissolved military institutions by civilians, for whom archivists could hinder access as well as block publications based on such documents.113 This problem was not resolved by the Historical Commission, founded in 1920 by scholars such as Hans Delbrück and Friedrich Meinecke, or by attempts to demilitarise the Reichsarchiv staff. Military authorities saw the functioning of the Kriegsgeschichtliche Abteilung as the only institution destined to carry out military research.114 Transferring older military documents to the GStA pk could to a certain extent ease their access. However, difficulties involved a second transferring of documents within a decade, which would for a time block access to them. This lack of direct access would result in a decreased interest in issues of the first half of the 19th century. Military institutions, however, still controled access to all archival materials, even though officially access to documents from before 1917 was intended to be free.115 This control was confirmed by the creation of the Reichsarchiv and shortly t­ hereafter, in 1937, the Kriegsgeschichtliche Forschungsanstalt des Heeres (kgfa).116 The 111 Brühl, Militärgeschichte, 291–304. 112 Ibid., 237–239, 244–248; Pöhlmann, Kriegsgeschichte, 82–92; Poll, ‘Vom Schicksal’, 65–66. This intention was expressed directly: BA-MA, rh 18/71, Abschrift: Der Reichwehrminister Generaloberst Werner von Blomberg an Reichs-und Preußische Minister des Innern Wilhelm Frick, Berlin, 13th December 1933, 6–7; ibid., rh 18/1002, Notizen zur Personalbesetzung, s.t. [1936?], s.p. 113 Brühl, Militärgeschichte, 281–282; H. Umbreit, ‘Von der preußisch-deutschen Militärgeschichtsschreibung zur heutigen Militärgeschichte, 1. Teilstreitkraft Heer’, Geschichte und Militärgeschichte. Wege der Forschung, ed. U. von Gersdorff (Frankfurt am Main, 1974), 27. 114 Brühl, Militärgeschichte, 250–252, 256–257; Pöhlmann, Kriegsgeschichte, 94–104, 129–130, 136–141, 151–153; Umbreit, ‘Militärgeschichtsschreibung’, 27–33. 115 BA-MA, rh 18/71, Abschrift: Vereinbarung zwischen dem Herrn Reichsminister des Innern und dem Herrn Reichwehrminister betreffend die Historische Abteilung des Reichsarchivs, Berlin, 16th June 1934, 36–37. 116 Pöhlmann, Kriegsgeschichte, 153–155; Umbreit, ‘Militärgeschichtsschreibung’, 31–32.

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situation in both institutions did not change until the end of their existence. If anything slighted changed, it was the army itself as an institution. Thus information coming from both institutional and civilian sources should be treated with considerable caution, with attention drawn to the army’s policies at any given time as to how it could affect not only content but access to archive materials. The object of interest for subsequent Prussian historical research was, therefore, the operations of successive wars. Works concerning its peacetime activities primarily concerned the organisation of particular formations and services, including the Landwehr.117 Subjects concerning the first half to the 19th century were studied from this point of view, though with a strong dependence on political conditions. In general, until 1857, the main interests of the Military History Department concerned campaigns of the Great Elector, the Seven Years’ War, the campaigns of 1806–1807 and 1812– 1815, as well as the events of the years 1848–1850.118 By the beginnings of the 1840s, works on the 1813–1815 war gradually shifted from an educational and patriotic tone to dry descriptions of tactics. With the return to a liberal trend, the critical analyses of the Napoleonic wars based on available archival materials re-emerged.119 The subject of the Landwehr also returned, which in the climate after the 1848 Revolution from a critical point of view.120 Particularly of interest are works that used archival documents to produce biographical sketches and obituaries of key figures of the Prussian military establishment,121 including Prince Augustus of Prussia, Grolman, Rühle, Wilhelm von Krauseneck, and Gneisenau.122 Unfortunately, the writers of these biographies and obituaries, in accordance with standards of the time, did not cite the sources they used.123 The unification of Germany focused attention on the campaigns of the years 1864–1871. This, however, did not cause a noticeable change in the method of documentation. The 1878 monograph on Udo von Bonin’s Prussian Corps of Engineers and Pioneers124 does contain, however, references to 117 List of publications: Umbreit, ‘Militärgeschichtsschreibung’, 33–49. 118 BA-MA, Großer Generalstab der Preußischen Armee/Oberste Heeresleitung des Deutschen Heeres, ph 3/124, Die Organisation des Großen Generalstabs von 1803 bis 1914.- Ausarbeitung von Major a. D. Stoeckel (handwritten), s.t., 71. 119 Brühl, Militärgeschichte, 77–83. 120 Ibid., 92–97. 121 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 72. 122 E.g. [Gerwien], ‘General-Lieutnant Rühle von Lilienstern. Ein biographisches Denkmal’, Beiheft zum Militair-Wochenblatt, October, November and December (1847), 125–194. Felgermann, General W.J.V. Krauseneck (Berlin, 1851). 123 E.g. [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 125, 159–164; Felgermann, Krauseneck, 140–231. 124 U. von Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps und der Pioniere in Preußen, part 2: Von 1812 bis zur Mitte des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 1878).

24

Introduction

d­ ocuments unknown today, which may be evidence that the state of archival materials concerning Prussian state defence planning and fortifications was ­improving. The lack of reference numbers, unfortunately, prohibits a determination of the files that were used. Both Meinecke and Emil von Conrady, in their key biographical works, use shelfmarks from the Ministry of War and General Staff archives, but do not provide a detailed list of their sources.125 Moreover, neither work contains much information about strategic concepts, and instead concentrates on organisational and political issues.126 Many of the interesting documents cited originate from the legacies of specific figures,127 making it difficult to assess which archives the scholars were granted access to. Likewise, we can’t identify missing documents in institutions before 1918. Rudolf Vaupel states that in 1875, the Military Cabinet destroyed a significant part of its old records, which corresponds with practices described by Jany.128 The Schlieffen era brought organisational changes in the Military History Department. In 1896, it was divided into two units. One dealt with events up to 1815, whereas events after that date fell under the remit of ka i, which was primarily interested in the Unification Wars period.129 Schlieffen personally attached great importance to studies regarding the campaigns of Frederick the Great (ka ii), which served as justification of his strategic and operational concepts.130 In 1908, this division was considered impractical and both cells were reunited.131 It was not until around 1910 that studies of the Wars of Liberation were resumed, which under Moltke and Schlieffen had been neglected while Frederickian wars were used to promote certain strategic ideas.132 Thus the army actively defended its view of history, the best example of which was the dispute over the significance of Frederick the Great’s strategy during the Seven Years’ War waged between military historians and Delbrück.133 This conflict 125 E. von Conrady, Leben und Wirken des Generals der Infanterie und kommandierenden Generals des V. Armeekorps Carl von Grolman, parts 1–3 (Berlin, 1894–1896); F. Meinecke, Das Leben des Generalfeldmarschalls Hermann von Boyen, vol. 1–2 (Stuttgart, 1896–1899). 126 Likewise, the legacy of Meinecke did not broaden knowledge regarding this matter; cf. GStA PK, vi. ha, Nachlass Friedrich Meinecke Nos. 123 and 297. 127 Here, for example, one can point to two of Clausewitz’s memoranda from the legacy of Job von Witzleben; ‘Mittheilungen aus dem Archive’. 128 Die Reorganisation, vii. 129 Brühl, Militärgeschichte, 165–171; Lange, Hans Delbrück, 53; Raschke, Der politisierende Generalstab, 66–67. Cf. BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 30. 130 Lange, Hans Delbrück, 73–79; Raschke, Der politisierende Generalstab, 81–134. 131 Lange, Hans Delbrück, 54. 132 Brühl, Militärgeschichte, 196–201. 133 The dispute followed criticism of Major von Taysen’s preface to an edition of the military testament of Frederick the Great (H. Delbrück, ‘,,Das militärische Testament” Friedrich

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clearly revealed the instrumental and dogmatic approach of the Prussian military establishment towards the study of history. At the heart of the dispute were conflicting views about the nature of strategy, which came to the fore in assessing the actions of the Prussian monarch. The resistance of officers to the views of professional historians indicated acceptance that was only consistent with current doctrine and the interests of the Prussian army. After the defeat of 1918, military literature naturally concentrated on the causes and course of the Great War, but also with analogies being made to the situation in Prussia after the disasters of 1806–1807. The theme of preparations for a nationwide uprising modelled on what had occurred in 1813 now returned. Instrumental references to the achievements of the reformers during the Napoleonic wars became particularly noticeable after the Nazis came to power, and supported their campaign to restore universal military service and prepare the nation for total war.134 Nevertheless, the greater number of published works compared to the previous use of sources questions the actual state of sources and the extent to which they were actually used. Information as to how the General Staff Archive was used before the First World War indicates an obsession with secrecy to the extent that all documents related to military planning were destroyed once they became outdated.135 It is not known, however, whether such practices were present in the period before 1857. That such practices did exist may be confirmed by Ludwig Dehio’s comment in 1923 concerning the edition of operation plans in the years 1850–1851 from Minister of War August von Stockhausen. Dehio, for many years an employee at the GStA pk, stated that, despite of Jany’s support, those were the only planning he managed to find in the General Staff Archive, which suggests documents were successively disposed of. Dehio encountered a similar situation at the Ministry of War Archive.136 Whether Dehio was only presented with certain documents or des Grossem, Herausgeben und Erlautert von Taysen, Major in Grossem Generalstab’, Zeitschrift für preußische Geschichte und Landesskunde 1 (1879), 27–32). Later there was also a dispute about the nature of strategy (Strategiestreit), engaging many leading military writers of the Second Reich. A detailed description of this dispute is found in: Bucholz, Hans Delbrück & the German military Establishment (Iowa City, 1986), 34–39; Craig, ‘Delbrück: The Military Historian’, Paret’s Makers of Modern Strategy, 326–353; R.T. Foley, German strategy and the Path to Verdun (Cambridge, 2005), 38–55; Lange, Hans Delbrück, 83–124. 134 Brühl, Militärgeschichte, 340–341; Poll, ‘Vom Schicksal’, 67–70. 135 A. Mombauer, Helmuth von Moltke and the Origins of the First World War (Cambridge, 2001), 34–41. 136 Dehio, ‘Zur November-Krise’, 138, footnote 1. Parts of edited plans are available in Stockhausen Papers in Berlin-Dahlem; GStA pk, vi. ha, Nachlass August v. Stockhausen, No. B i, Memoire, Berlin, 13th July 1850, s.p.; ibid., Promemoria, s.l., 8th November 1850, s.p.

26

Introduction

whether he saw interesting titles that did not contain the relevant documents is not known. Jany, author of multi-volume works on the history of the Prussian army, no doubt had a thorough knowledge of the archival resources. His work, unfortunately, only concerns organisational issues, without reference to other concrete documents of the period I am interested in.137 Similar doubts apply to Hans Rothfels’s contemporary edition of two of Clausewitz’s letters regarding a defence plan that Karl von Müffling had commissioned officers to carry out towards the end of 1827 in anticipation of an Austrian invasion. The letters were found in a file with the shelfmark ‘Kriegsarchiv d. Gr. Generalstabs, cap. iv Nr. 243 (Reichsarchiv)’,138 which means that they were from materials deposited in the historical archive, in the manuscripts collection,139 confirmed in a more complete edition of Clausewitz’s letters,140 published as a supplement to the official journal Militärwissenschaftliche Rundschau (mwr). This should incline us to caution, as it did not originate from one of the files containing Generalstabsreisen reports or tactical tasks. The reason these letters would have been preserved and edited is the simple fact that they were written by Clausewitz, but this raises the question as to why Rothfels did not broaden the context of the letters by referring to numerous other files from that period.141 He also failed to do so in the mwr; the intention was clearly not to reveal historical truths, but rather to use the author of Vom Kriege to promote specific operational policy (in this case a defence policy). Questions need to be raised with regard to the source for Major Herbert von Böckmann’s article, which was published on the centenary of Schlieffen’s birthday in a volume entitled Von Scharnhorst zu Schlieffen 1806–1906. Hundert Jahre preußisch-deutscher Generalstab.142 His text has exceptional significance due to its synthetic presentation

137 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 115–214. 138 Rothfels, ‘Zwei strategische Briefe von Clausewitz’, WuW 4 (1923), 159, footnote *. 139 Meisner, Winter, Übersicht, 207. 140 ‘Zwei Briefe des Generale von Clausewitz. Gedanken zur Abwehr’, mwr, special number (1937), 2. 141 The author of this may be considered a precursor in the trend focusing on the psychological and philosophical aspects of Clausewitz’s concepts, following the abandonment of attempts reproduce and intellectual image of the period of Prussian reforms; Rothfels, Carl von Clausewitz, 29–60, 190–193. Cf. R. Blaschke, Carl von Clausewitz. Ein Leben im Kampf (Berlin, 1934); Blaschke, Carl von Clausewitz. Der Soldat und Kriegsphilosoph, 2nd Ed. (Leipzig, 1940); W. Elze, Clausewitz (Berlin, 1934); Elze, ‘Von der Lehre und der Lehrweise im Buch vom Kriege von Clausewitz’, Durch Wehrhaftigkeit zum Frieden (Hamburg, 1934), 30–39; W.M. Schering, Die Kriegsphilosophie von Clausewitz. Eine Untersuchung über ihren systematischen Aufbau (Hamburg, 1935). 142 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 115–147.

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of the operational concepts of successive gs chiefs in the years 1815–1857, including often cited opinions of the Generalstabsreisen in the times of Müffling. Its publication was of priority importance to the Reichswehr at the time,143 and therefore it seems justified to assume that the author had access to all necessary archival materials. The bibliography, however, only refers to a single group of documents at the Heeresarchiv in Dahlem – Ha. A. Rep. 5, Verz. v ‘Die Übungsreisen des großen Generalstabs’.144 This, therefore, was material marked by the creators of the official inventory as unsorted, which contained only part of the accessible resource of the Übungsreisen. It is difficult to say why Böckmann omitted other, theoretically better elaborated elements. The explanation could be directives imposed by the author’s superiors. The arrangement of texts in the volume is telling. Of the six texts, five directly concern periods before 1815 and after 1857. They focus on the figures of Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, Moltke the Elder, and Schlieffen. The very title, The Spiritual Heritage of the Wars of Liberation, puts it in context. Unfortunately, other classic works on the 19th-century Prussian army from the 1918–1945 period offer little about the state of archival resources. In his excellent study on the legal position of the General Staff, Günther Wohlers does not refer to any archival source.145 Although Rudolf SchmidtBückeburg used the archives at Dahlem for his 1933 work on the Military Cabinet,146 he only mentioned several shelfmarks from the Cabinet and Ministry of War archives. Moreover, he discusses the 1787–1848 period in only one chapter as a brief introduction.147 Little information is found in Heinrich Otto Meisner’s book on the Ministry of War in the years 1814–1914, where each chapter is focused on the second half of the 19th century. Relations between the Ministry and gs concerning the organisational structure of the former and its separation from the General Staff in the 1820s is relegated to a footnote,148 with 143 This is evidenced by Gerhard P. Groß’s description of the circumstances in which General Friedrich von Boetticher was instructed to commission a series of texts marking the centenary of Alfred von Schlieffen’s birthday, one of which is included in the volume (‘Der Lehrmeister des neuzeitlichen Krieges’, Von Scharnhorst, 256–281). The author was able to gather materials with the support of Minister Wilhelm Groener and President Paul von Hindenburg; G.P. Groß, ‘There Was a Schlieffen Plan: New Sources on the History of German Military Planning’, War in History 4 (2008), 95–96. 144 Von Scharnhorst, 325. 145 G. Wohlers, Die staatsrechtliche Stellung des Generalstabs in Preußen und dem deutschen Reich (Bonn and Leipzig, 1921). 146 R. Schmidt-Bückeburg, Das Militärkabinett der preußischen Könige und deutschen Kaiser. Seine geschichtliche Entwicklung und staatsrechtliche Stellung 1787–1918 (Berlin, 1933), xv. 147 Ibid., 1–37. 148 Meisner, Der Kriegsminister 1814–1914. Ein Beitrag zur militärischen Verfassungsgeschichte (Berlin, 1940), 47, footnote 3, 48, footnote 1.

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the remainder of the chapter devoted to the period after the nomination of Moltke.149 Unfortunately, matters were not clarified after the war by scholars who had access to dispersed resources and were able to publish once the military authority restrictions were lifted. In the 1954 publication of the first volume of his work Staatskunst und Kriegshandwerk, Gerhard Ritter stated only generally that research he carried out in the years 1942–1943 included documents from Kriegsministerium and various rules from the years 1817–1914, as well as campaign plans for 1862–1864 from the General Staff Archive.150 Therefore, the author concentrated on documents in a systemic manner,151 and did not explain whether the traces of strategic concepts he found were accessible. In consideration of the fact that he had the support of Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (okw), it seems unlikely that he would not have been provided with access to necessary materials. The lack of reference to shelfmarks, unfortunately, makes it impossible to verify his sources. The situation is similar with Eberhard Kessel’s 1957 biography of Moltke. The author’s knowledge of the General Staff’s organisation and activities before 1857 clearly indicates that he used resources that were inaccessible after the Second World War.152 This is also evident in the introduction to his bibliography, where he explained the reasons why he refrained from providing references to archive sources. He argued that it was pointless because materials he had used had been subsequently destroyed or dispersed. For this reason, he provided a list of unpublished sources he had used in a separate publication, indicating those that were lost and those that were still accessible.153 The author’s approach makes it difficult to assess what materials had been made available to him before 1945, all the more problematic considering Kessel’s conviction that the issue of Prussian operation planning in the years 1815–1914 should be the subject of a separate, thorough study.154 These examples prove that any conclusions based on sources existing before 1945 should be treated with caution. Typescripts and manuscripts from the Heeresarchiv and kgfa, currently at the BA-MA, confirmed this caution. While some of them were of an official nature, others were preparatory studies. In either case, a comparison between their source base and what was made 149 Ibid., 48–55. 150 G. Ritter, Staatskunst und Kriegshandwerk. Das Problem des „Militarismus“ in Deutschland, vol. 1: Die altpreußische Tradition (Munich, 1954), 9–11. 151 Cited, e. g., in materials concerning separating the ggs in 1821; ibid., 372, 219, footnote 18. 152 E. Kessel, Moltke (Stuttgart, 1957), 236–256. 153 Ibid., 765–766. 154 Ibid., 250, footnote 1.

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available to historians is astonishing. The most substantial in terms of content were without doubt two works concerning the general staff, written by Major von Stoeckel, an employee of the K 1 cell, and later of the Reichsarchiv.155 They comprise a manuscript156 and a shorter typescript,157 containing information impossible to confirm on the basis of sources or secondary works today. Stoeckel used in a complex, normative fashion documents relating to the activities of the ggs, which created an unparalleled source of knowledge about the organisation and functioning of that institution. Exceptionally valuable are excerpts from annual reports and various tasks performed by the institution. Unfortunately, although the work has neither bibliography nor footnotes, the cited or paraphrased documents not only indicate wide access to archives but a wealth of information contained in the files up to the year 1918. Such research was clearly still possible in the years 1919–1920 when the works were written. It is equally clear that in association with the liquidation of German military institutions, this was the final chord in the ggs historical operation.158 Perhaps for this reason, the work, though intended for internal use, was merant to preserve and continue the tradition of the former institutions. The trace of a research potential that may have been in preparation for an even greater work is found in ggs annual reports for the years 1826–1912.159 Although currently dated to 1935, they are most likely notes Stoeckel made when writing his major work. This is evidenced by chaotic, disordered, barely legible handwritten notes found in the cover. They provide the major’s name along with a declaration that this is a preliminary work on the organisation of the ggs. Their content, though difficult to read, proves the potential of documents held in Dahlem and Potsdam after 1918. In later years, the extent to which these materials could be used seemed much smaller, as evidenced in the case of another work intended for internal use.160 An anonymous work of 1935 on the development of the ggs is decidedly poorer in terms of content. The material in the chapter concerning the 1814–1825 period does not seem significantly different from what remains 155 Stoeckel is featured on the list of employees in the Militaria (Gruppe A ii) division as an Archivrat; BA-MA, rh 18/579, Reichsarchiv. Archivabteilung, 1920s, s.p. 156 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation. 157 BA-MA, ph 3/1026, Major a. D. hoar Stoeckel: Die Organisation des Großen Generalstabes (von den Anfängen bis 1920), [Um 1920]. 158 Vide files BA-MA, ph 3/933, Organisation und Richtlinien der kriegsgeschichtlichen Abteilungen, January-February 1919 and ph 3/1230, Kriegsgeschichtliche Abteilung 4.- Organisationsangelegenheiten, 1919. 159 BA-MA, Kriegsgeschichtliche Forschungsanstalt des Heeres, rh 61/381, Auszüge aus Jah­ resberichten über die Organisation des Großen Generalstabes 1826–1912, June 1935[?]. 160 Among them I would also include the short typescript: BA-MA, rh 61/338, Die Entwicklung des Verhältnisses zwischen Generalstab und Kriegsministerium, December 1931.

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in the archive after they were returned from the ussr.161 The work’s list of sources and bibliography, however, is valuable though general, without references to specific files. The most interesting from the ggs are ‘Bestimmungen für den Generalstab 1821–1918’, ‘Akten betr. Kriegsministerium 1822–1919’, ‘Besondere Angelegenheiten des Generalstabs – 1867’; from the Kriegsministerium, ‘Generalstab und Adjutantur 1817–1919’ and from the Military Cabinet, ‘Generalstab der Armee 1821–1920’.162 It is difficult to ascertain what part of the available resources were used. Interestingly, Stoeckel’s work is not included among the list of materials. The subject of this monograph was never of interest to Prussian military historians, which resulted in meager exploitation of available archival resources. A comparison of works written for publication with those intended for internal use indicates that the former referred to archival sources only in a limited way. Perhaps the reason for this was an ongoing transformation of ordering files, which obviously hindered research. The process could also be associated with the priority of military literature, in which the entire period of 1815–1857 was analysed exclusively in the context of a specific event and not as an independent epoch in the history of the Prussian military. Such practices before 1945 justifiy the view that information contained in older works should be treated with considerable scepticism, especially in cases where the author did not use archival materials. The obvious difficulties created by such practices in the Prussian army are compounded by additional factors. As a particular example, Hans Delbrück, considered the father of military history, was an outsider in both civilian and military circles.163 This is because military history was from the outset treated as a purely technical field of knowledge (Fachwissenschaft), reserved for military officers, unworthy of the interests of professional historians, who focused their attention on political history or the history of ideas (Geistwissenschaft).164 As a consequence, civilian historians often displayed a basic ignorance of even elementary military matters, nevertheless treating descriptions of wars and campaigns as an element subordinated to broader historical investigations.165 For example, Wilhelm von Humboldt saw in war an educational campaign

161 The file actually ended up in the Freiburg from gdr’s archive. 162 BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg und Generalstabs-Verantwortlichkeit bis 1905, s.l., 22nd August 1935, 3. 163 Bucholz, Hans Delbrück, 19–44; Craig, Delbrück, 326–353. 164 Bucholz, Hans Delbrück, 27. 165 Ibid., 30–37; Lange, Hans Delbrück, 31–39.

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against eudemonism in society.166 He and other luminaries of Prussian learning perceived the state as an idea that pursued it’s goals chiefly through war. Thus official literature performed a propaganda role.167 Michael Salewski, however, notes that there also existed an extensive and diverse literature by civilian authors who focused on the 1806–1818 period, i.e., the time of reforms.168 The achievements of Frederick the Great, as well as the wars in 1813– 1815 and 1864–1871, were important components of Prussian national mythology. The last of these wars also became the foundation myth of the Second Reich. The unification of Germany was made possible as the result of three victorious wars, which thus became points of reference for historiography. All episodes concerning the period before the Unification of Germany were thus treated as elements leading up to that inevitable unification under the aegis of Prussia.169 The goal could not be achieved without the army and its essential institutions: the General Staff and universal military service. Particularly the latter was considered a binding force in German society. This phenomenon reached its apogee in the interwar years. The liquidation of two fundamental Prussian military institutions as a result of the Versailles provisions provoked a need for the writing of their history. Demands to reinstitute conscription were supported by scholars, who described it as a traditional form of German military organisation.170 Under the Nazis this tradition was extended to the times of the Germanic tribes.171 Something similar may be observed in relation to the

166 G. Iggers, Deutsche Geschichtswissenschaft: Eine Kritik der traditionellen Geschichtsauffassung von Herder bis zur Gegenwart (Munich, 1971), 66–67; M. Proto, I due imperi. Ideologie della guerra tra modello prusianno a neoconservatismo americano (Manduria-Bari-Rome, 2005), 38–41. 167 Pöhlmann, Kriegsgeschichte, 31–41. 168 M. Salewski, ‘Zur preußischen Militärgeschichtsschreibung im 19. Jahrhundert’, Militärgeschichte in Deutschland und Österreich vom 18. Jahrhundert bis in die Gegenwart, ed. mgfa (Bonn, 1985), 63–64. 169 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 13–33. 170 This is testified by, for instance, a renewed interest in Boyen, who was created as the founder of the universal military service system; G. Scholz, Hermann von Boyen, Der Begründer der Allgemeinen Wehrpflicht. Der Mann uns sein Werk (Berlin, 1936); J. Ullrich, Generalfeldmarschall Hermann von Boyen (Berlin, 1936). 171 Here, I primarily have in mind the published work of Ernst Huber on Reinhard Höhn, the preface to which directly points to the historical precedent for the founding of the Wehrmacht and subordinating it entirely to the ideals of National Socialism; R. Höhn, Verfassungskampf und Heereseid. Der Kampf des Bürgertums um das Heer (1815–1850) (Leipzig, 1938), xix–xxiv; E.R. Huber, Heer und Staat in der deutschen Geschichte (Hamburg, 1938), 7–11. Both indeed belonged to a group of constitutionalists who legitimised in their works conferring power to Hitler.

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General Staff, which was considered a prerequisite for state security.172 According to Dierk Walter, the institution was treated as a classical Weberian ‘ideal type’. In his description, the organisation and how it functioned were primarily directed by the image of the wars of unification, ignoring the decades of the evolution of the institution.173 These trends had a fundamental impact on how works were written, resulting in the history of the Prussian army in the first half of the 19th century as primarily the history of the General Staff and the Landwehr, described as sine qua non elements for its existence. 2

Methodology and Research Methods

The subject of this work is ‘strategic thought’. The term is without a doubt part of a broader concept of ‘military thought’, to whose meaning there is no full consensus in historiography. It, therefore, requires a very precise definition, especially in the case of studies concerning the 19th-century military. Before any application of the term in a work on German military history, one needs to take into account the fact that in literature there is a popular 19thcentury related term Kriegswissenschaften (as well as its modified forms Wehrwissenschaften and Militärwissenschaften). Dictionaries and lexicons trace its 19th-century evolution. The first edition of Meyers Konversations-Lexikon treated the terms Kriegskunst and Kriegswissenschaft as virtual synonyms, referring the latter term to the definition of the art of war.174 The ‘art of war’ in its broader sense was understood to mean everything that concerned and taught the creation, maintainance, and use of all means necessary for the state to wage war, and in a narrower sense as the knowledge of the methods of waging war and the ability to use them. The lexicon divided it into two categories: Kriegführung (the waging of war) and Hülfswissenschaften (auxiliary sciences). The first category included tactics, strategy, the science of setting up camps, and the science of defending and attacking fortresses. Auxiliary sciences concerned military economics, the acquisition of resources for waging war and activities involved in preparing these resources for war.175 The later edition of the lexicon clearly distinguished the two concepts. Kriegswissenschaft meant

172 Wohlers, Die staatsrechtliche Stellung, 1; Von Scharnhorst. 173 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 513–516. 174 Meyers Konversations-Lexikon, 1st Ed., vol. 19, part 1 (Amsterdam-Paris, Philadelphia, 1851), 215. 175 Ibid., 198–199.

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theory of war, science of war, the systematic development of art of war principles, including the science of war aims (war policy), means of waging war (organisation, management, the arming of troops, fortresses and the navy, etc.) and finally, on the basis of the two concepts, the science of using these means (the science of battles and operations) or rather the science of war, the science of waging war or commanding on the battlefield.176 A definition from the end of the 19th century stated that Kriegswissenschaften was: everything that concerned the art, science and history of wars. The systematic development of the rules of the art of war, including the science of the aims of war (war policy), resources of waging war (organisation, supplies, arming of troops, fortresses, navy) and on the basis of both these sciences, the science of using these resources to wage war. The science of waging war comprises strategy (waging war on a large scale) and tactics (the carrying out of particular orders in the form of marches and combat). Both derive their knowledge from the history of wars. In addition to these proper military sciences, there are also purely auxiliary sciences, the science of fortification, arms, etc. As such noted should also be aspects of other sciences, knowledge of which is indispensable for the military, that is, primarily military geography, military cartography, etc.177

176 ‘die Theorie des Krieges, die Lehre vom Kriege, eine systematische Entwickelung des Gesetze der Kriegskunst (s. d.), umfasst die Lehre von den Kriegszwecken (Kriegspolitik), von den Kriegsmittel (Organisation, Verwaltung, Bewaffnung, und Ausrüstung der Truppen, Festungen und Marine u.), u. endlich auf beides gestützt die Lehre von der Anwendung der Kriegsmittel (Gefechts- und Operationslehre) oder die eigentliche K., die Wissenschaft die Kriegführung oder Feldherrwissenschaft’, Meyers Konversations-Lexikon, 2nd Ed., vol. 10 (Hildburghausen, 1865), 355. 177 ‘Kriegswissenschaften (Militärwissenschaften): Alles, was sich auf die Kunst, Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Krieges bezieht. Eine systematische Entwicklung der Gesetze der Kriegskunst umfasst die Lehre von den Kriegszwecken (Kriegspolitik), von den Kriegsmitteln (Organisation, Verwaltung, Bewaffnung und Ausrüstung der Truppen, Festungen, Marine etc.) und, auf beides gestützt, die Lehre von der Anwendung der Kriegsmittel zur Kriegsführung. Diese zerfällt in die Strategie (Leitung des Kriegs im großen) und die Taktik (Ausführung der einzelnen Anordnungen durch die Märsche und Gefechte der Truppen). Beide schöpfen ihre Lehren aus der Kriegsgeschichte. Neben diesen eigentlichen Kriegswissenschaften sind die anderen nur Hilfswissenschaften, die Fortifikation, Waffenlehre etc. Als solche bezeichnet man auch diejenigen Teile anderer Wissenschaften, deren Kenntnis dem Militär nötig ist, und spricht daher von einer

34

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One can see the gradual process of distinguishing between spheres of performance and reflection, as well as the division between the art of war itself and the auxiliary sciences. Such an approach was also presented in a lexicon devoted to military matters. The 1878 dictionary of Bernhard von Poten stressed the dual nature of the term by putting them in the plural. It defined Kriegswissenschaften as: all the disciplines involved in war and warfare. A distinction is made between main sciences: history of wars, strategy and tactics, which taught the actual waging of war, and the auxiliary sciences: the science of weapons, fortifications, terrain, military geography, military administration, military law, military hygiene, etc. and those that concern individual branches of the art of war.178 The Militär-Lexikon of 1901 treated the concept similarly: particular branches of the art of war perceived scientifically, are usually divided into: the main sciences, i.e., the twin sciences of strategy and tactics, teaching didactically the art of war and empirically history of wars; auxiliary sciences, including weapons science, fortifications science and terrain science in the former, and military supplies, law, health service science and military geography in the latter.179 According to the Handbuch für Heer und Flotte published in 1913, they constituted an element in the broader reflection on the art of war, to which auxiliary

Militärgeographie, von militärischem Aufnehmen etc.’; Meyers Konversations-Lexikon, 4th Ed., vol. 10 (Leizpig, 1888), 221. 178 ‘sind sämmtliche Disziplinen, welche sich mit Krieg und Kriegführung befassen. Man unterscheidet: Haupt-K.: Kriegsgeschichte, Strategie, Taktik, welche die Kriegführung selbst lehren Hilf-K.: Waffenlehre, Fortifikation, Terrainlehre, Militairgeographie, – Verwaltung, – Recht, – Hygiene, u. s. w. und da die einzelne Zweige der Kriegskunst behandeln.’; Handwörterbuch der Gesamten Militärwissenschaften, ed. B. von Poten, vol. 6 (Bielefeld und Leipzig, 1878), 70. 179 ‘d. einzelnen Zweige der Kriegskunst in wissenschaftliche Behandlung, werden gewönhlich schieden in: Haupt-K.: d. Schwestertwissenschaften Strategie u. Taktik, welche d. Kriegskunst didaktisch u. d. Kriegsgeschichte, welche sie empirisch lehrt; HülfsK.: Waffen-, Befestigungs-, Gälendelehre in erster, Mil.-Verwaltungs-, Rechts-, Gesundheitslehre, Mil.-Geographie in zweiter Linie’; H. Frobenius, Militär-lexikon: handwörterbuch der militärwissenschaften (Berlin, 1901).

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sciences should be added.180 The essential considerations were questions of strategy and tactics. The definitions primarily treat utility for military purposes as the distinguishing factor. There is a general division into main sciences, those concerning the art of war and auxiliary ones. The main sciences distinguish didactic (theoretical) ones, including strategy and tactics as well as the history of wars. The definitions contain a systemised perception of military sciences. To treat utility to the army as a distinguishing criterion allowed the inclusions of works by civilian authors, though they usually concerned auxiliary sciences such as chemistry and medicine. The disadvantage of explanations of Kriegswissenschaften is the undefined nature of their source. Max Jähns, the author of a multi-volume work on military literature up to the end of the 18th century is helpful in this case. Using Moltke as authority, he distinguished between Kriegskunst and Kriegswissenschaften. The former was manifested in the personality and actions of the commander. This could not be said of military sciences, where generalisations and changes in the subjects under investigation prohibited, according to the author, the possibility of creating a single ‘science’. This was characteristic of knowledge based on actual experience, understood as the art or craft of war. The purpose of science was knowledge, while the purpose of art was to act and achieve goals.181 Practice, however, required tools, whose selection Jähns ­considered also a form of action. These comprised all means of warfare (Kriegsmittel), the equivalent of which in military sciences was knowledge of raising (Heeresaufbringung), dividing (Heeresgliederung), and maintaining (Heereszucht) troops, science of weapons (Waffenlehre), and knowledge of fortifications (Befestigungskunde). The waging of war, in turn, required a theory for the use of each of these in the form of strategy or tactics.182 The task of Kriegswissenschaften was, according to Jähns, the knowledge of resources and how they should be used and which were significant. The aim was not present in all phenomena concerning war, but rather in their perception and theoretical generalisations. For this reason, their main interest was in military literature (Militärliteratur). According to Jähns, the learning of Kriegswissenschaften and Kriegskunst differed fundamentally, as there was not always a correlation between what happens at a given time and what is formulated in science.183 For that reason, Kriegswissenschaften had to be primarily a history of military 180 Handbuch für Heer und Flotte, Enzyklopädie der Kriegswissenschaften und verwandter ­Gebiete, ed. H. von. Alberi, vol. 5 (Leipzig, 1913), 689–690. 181 M. Jähns, Geschichte der Kriegswissenchaften vornemhlich in Deutschaland, part 1: Altertum, Mittelalter, xv. und xvi. Jahrhundert (Munich and Leipzig, 1889), v–vi. 182 Ibid., ix–x. 183 Ibid., x–xi.

36

Introduction

literature. The German scholar understood literature in a broad sense, which included unpublished works and manuscripts as well as published ordinances and regulations. Such an understanding was significant in earlier epochs when printing documents was not common.184 Jähns was additionally of the opinion that Kriegswissenschaften should present military literature in a way that captured spiritual ties between the works to allow for the correct presentation of particular issues.185 Jähns considerations indicate those materials that a ‘military science’ scholar should study. This is a matter of literature analysed in a way not strictly corresponding to contemporary events, nevertheless taking into account interaction between analysed events and institutional dimensions. This approach theoretically allowed for a selection of ‘military science’ materials in each epoch. However, such a division of sources regarding Kriegswissenschaften does not solve the problem, since the definition of military literature in Poten’s lexicon is formed by all published works concerning matters and people associated with the army. According to Poten, military literature only began with the formation of permanent armies. Before that, it was only a part of general literature. The establishment of a military profession as a specific institution led to the emergence of professional military literature.186 Poten associates this with the concept of military organisational structures. This is especially significant in the case of issues concerning the 19th century, during which an official form of literature was created, making it difficult to apply a common definition to Militärliteratur and Kriegswissenschaften. Doubts in this matter were expressed by Paddy Griffith in a monograph on French military thought in the years 1815–1851,187 who drew attention to the diverse ways of understanding the concept of ‘military thought’. One of its proposals was to equate military literature in general to all that had been written regarding war and the army by soldiers and civilians alike. According to Griffith, such an approach could lead to regarding military literature as literary works written by former officers, or alternatively by selected works of Victor Hugo, Honoré de Balzac, Joseph de Maistre, or Émile Zola. For Griffith, the definition was too broad and amorphous. The opposite approach was to consider military organisation and the philosophy of war as works of interest to contemporaries. Such criterion, though seemingly useful, would mean that in the entire 1815– 1851 period only two such works, those by Clausewitz and Jomini, would apply. 184 Ibid., xiii–xiv. 185 Ibid., xiv–xv. 186 Handwörterbuch der Gesamten, vol. 7, 1–11. 187 P. Griffith, Military thought in the French army, 1815–51 (Manchester and New York, 1989), 53–57.

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It is difficult not to agree with Griffith that these two classics are to be appreciated in the environment in which they applied, especially in debates concerning military matters. Griffith’s remarks can be compared with two other proposals concerning the study of military history. Brian Holden Reid, in the context of British military thought in the 19th and 20th centuries, has proposed the term ‘military intellectual’, i.e., a person dealing with thoughts useful to the army. Holden Reid distinguishes four categories of people: civilian experts strictly connected with the army, academic staff (though chiefly after 1945), retired soldiers with a flair for writing, and soldiers in active service who can be subdivided into those who write their own works and those of higher rank who use their position and influence to promote their ideas and those of their protégés.188 In a similar approach, Daniel Coetzee and Lee Eysturlid have proposed the concept of the ‘philosopher of war’, a person who through investigations or their own experiences creates theories concerning the art of war. Although not each activity could be qualified as ‘philosophy of war’, leaders who generated changes in the art of war deserved to be called philosophers.189 These proposals can be characterised as a catalogue of the creators of ‘military thought’, showing diversity, and, on the other hand, connections with the army as an institution. Taking into account people not engaged in literary activity indicates the need to expand the field of study to include views of decision-makers. Any analysis of military thought limited to military literature without taking into account dominant views in a given army is of very doubtful value in the case of 19th-century realities.190 Military literature is only a part of ‘military thought’ and not the reverse. Before a theoretical work can be written, a process of assessments and considerations need to have occurred, which require the result of one’s own or other people’s experiences. In the case of the 19thcentury army, this requires taking into account the institutional aspect. The armies of the European states during that period were acquiring a monopoly 188 B. Holden Reid, Studies in British Military Thought. Debates with Fuller & Liddell Hart (Nebraska City, 1998), 2–4. 189 Philosophers of War. The Evolution of History’s Greatest Military Thinkers, ed. D. Coetzee and L.W. Eysturlid, preface, D. Showalter, vol. 1: The Ancient to Pre–Modern World, 3000 bce–1815 ce (Santa Barbara, Denver, Oxford, 2013), xix. 190 Even the brilliant book of Arthur Kuhle about Prussian military thought in the context of philosophical concept of ‘dynamic balance’ is in my opinion traditional in its "Ideengeschichte" paradigm. Of course the military thought can be analyzed as a part of intellectual history, but in my opinion the institutional context should be strongly present in that process; A. Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie um 1800 und ihre Suche nach dynamischen Gleichgewichten (Berlin, 2018), 9–12.

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Introduction

of external security, as well as conducting analyses of armed conflicts, illustrated in Prussian military historiography. The gathering of experiences in order to make generalisations was not possible without taking into account underlying points of view. The reflections only acquire meaning in the context of given armed forces, as in the case of outsiders. In analysing a theoretical military work, conclusions about the author’s points of view can only point to relations to rules and opinions of official organisations. The vast majority of works of military literature were written by officers of a diversity of ranks, and therefore influenced by a hierarchical organisation trained to hold a particular worldview. This worldview is as important when it is accepted as when it is rejected. Hence, the need to include the institutional dimension of military thought expressed in literature. In earlier epochs armed forces were not fully formalised institutions, whose military thought require different criteria. Suggestions of the existence of the relationship between the army as an institutions and opinions expressed about the art of war have long been expressed by social scientists. According to Samuel P. Huntington, the officer corps should be treated as a group with specialised qualifications. He perceived he armed forces as the ‘management of combat’, as an organisation, equipping and training forces, planning actions and commanding them during and after conflict.191 An officer’s profession was of a public and bureaucratic nature, which meant that he operated according to explicitly defined legal regulations, associated with the hierarchical structure of an institution.192 Huntington observed the emergence of such an institution from the aristocratic officer corps in the 19th century, the symbolic turning point of which he chose the Prussian military reforms of 1808.193 A similar approach was taken by Morris Janowitz, according to whom the profession was characterised by skills acquired through training, which in the case of army officers concerned waging war with violence.194 Studies based on the development of ‘organisational culture’ ultimately conceived a military culture. The methodological basis of these studies was the assumed existence of a military subculture in which a strictly closed, hierarchical group, built around principles the perception of which shaped

191 S.P. Huntington, The Soldier and the State. The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations (Cambridge, 1957), 7–17. 192 Ibid., 16–17. 193 Ibid., 30–31. 194 M. Janowitz, The Professional Soldier. A social and political Portrait (New York, 1961), 5–16.

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their worldview, especially a professional paradigm of the art of war.195 Elizabeth Kier196 argues that doctrinal changes are best understood from a cultural point of view. Hence, the most important element in analysing military organisations is primarily ideological.197 The culture of a ‘total’ organisation such as an army inculcates its members with a controlled worldview, set to automatically take decisions on the battlefield. According to Kier, this type of culture should not be treated as equivalent to a ‘national character’, because the army is an organisation separated from society. The views of this group requires not the study of their daily lives or how they functioned in society, but rather their military training, manoeuvres, officer career training, and that of military periodicals.198 In another aspect of this trend, Isabel V. Hull has proposed a concept,199 based on the views of Clyde Kluckhohn, that define culture as reciprocal relation of norms and actual behaviours. A viewpoint of military culture, therefore, provides an understandimng of why members of a particular military organisation act during war in a specific way. This, which focuses mainly on organisational and social aspects during peacetime, differs from that of military sociology. Military practice here is considered from the point of view of anthropology and organisational sociology, as a result of the conscious application of rules inculcated during education and training, and only secondly as a consequence of applied military procedures. From the sociological point of view, the army is categorised as a strong organisation built on hierarchical subordination and oriented on training its members to behave in a desired manner in specific situations. A set of concepts instilled in early service not only has a critical impact on decisions made on the battlefield, but assesses one’s own experiences.200 Studies based on these assumptions have confirmed that despite dynamic changes in the nature of war and an analysis of World War I experiences, the worldviews and mentalities developed before 1914 still had a profound influence on how the art of war was perceived by officer corps of the Reichswehr and Wehrmacht.201 195 U. von Hagen, M. Tomforde, ‘Militärische Kultur’, Militärsoziologie: Eine Einführung, ed. N. Leonhard, I-J. Werkner (Wiesbaden, 2012), 285–313. 196 E. Kier, Imagining War: French and British Military Doctrine between the Wars (Princeton, 1999). 197 Ibid., 3. 198 Ibid., 27–30. 199 I.V. Hull, Absolute Destruction. Military Culture and the Practices of War in Imperial Germany (Ithaca and London, 2004), 98. 200 Ibid., 93–109. 201 G-l. Vardi, The enigma of German operational theory: the evolution of military thought in Germany, 1919–1938, PhD thesis, London School of Economics, 2008; M.R. Stoneman, Wilhelm Groener, Officering and the Schlieffen Plan, PhD thesis, Georgetown University, 2006.

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Introduction

My concept of strategic thought202 is similar to that proposed by Beatrice Heuser in her The Evolution of Strategy. Thinking War from Antiquity to the Present. Heuser’s work describes the evolution of the discourse on phenomena she defined as belonging to strategy, the evolution of the meanings of the actual word ‘strategy’ throughout history.203 Using this approach would require a precise understanding of the term, as well as all elements associated with it. The selection of a definition would entail assessing its adequacy and would hinder an analysis of the issue.204 Therefore, I adopt the modern definition of the concept. Heuser is of the opinion that the most universal definition is that of the relationship between political goals and the use of force.205 Colin S. Gray’s similar understanding is that ‘strategy’ is the use of force for political goals,206 the bridge that should connect the two spheres. Both definitions assume adequacy for every epoch. According to Gray, ‘strategy’ is the ‘objective’ part of the nature of war, whose components are timeless. Unfortunately, his directives are too complex because within the term he distinguished as many as 17 dimensions, divided into three groups referring successively to human and political nature as to preparations for and the actual waging of war.207 This overcomplicated structure hinders rather than facilitates an analysis of strategic thought, and has been adapted for analysing state strategy. Therefore, as a complement to Gray’s definition, I have used the modified proposal contained in the introduction to the doctoral thesis of Günter Brünning on Austrian

202 Here, I reject the possibility of using the ‘strategic culture’ model, which refers to political elites and the whole of society, as this would require a far broader chronological and thematic scope; Ch. Freuding, ‘Organising for War: Strategic Culture and the Organisation of High Command in Britain and Germany, 1850–1945: Comparative Perspective’, Defence Studies 10, 3 (2010), 432. 203 Heuser, The Evolution of Strategy. Thinking War from Antiquity to the Present (Cambridge, 2010), 3. 204 This is also associated with doubts concerning the meaning of this concept in PrussoGerman military thought put forward by scholars of the art of operations. For example, Zabecki suggest that when Clausewitz refers to ‘politics’, it should be understood as strategy, and his use of the word ‘strategy’ really means the operational level. Zabecki also stresses that criticism of Vom Kriege and similar works from the first half of the 19th century for not mentioning the operational level is clearly ‘retroactive’. Wishing to avoid having to consider every time whether or not the word ‘strategy’ was appropriately used, I have decided not use its definition from that period; Groß, Mythos und Wirklichkeit. Geschichte des operativen Denkens im deutschen Heer von Moltke der Ä. bis Heusinger (Paderborn-Vienna-Munich-Zürich, 2012), 7–17; D.T. Zabecki, The German 1918 Offensives. A case study in the operational level of war (London-New York, 2009), 40–45, 49–50. 205 Heuser, The Evolution, 3. 206 C.S. Gray, Modern Strategy (Oxford-New York, 1999), 17. 207 Ibid., 24–31.

Introduction

41

­ ilitary strategy in the first half of the 19th century.208 In his analysis of the m theoretical views of particular figures, the German historian focused on the following elements: the art of war in relation to the science of war, politics in relation to strategy, the definition of strategy and the distinction between strategy and tactics, the basics of strategy, the significance of battles, and the relation between attack and defence,209 although some items should be examined together. The main problems of strategic thought are the mutual relationship between politics and strategy/war, the relationship between the art of war and the science of war, the role of the leader, the definition of strategy, the distinction between strategy and tactics, the basics of strategy, preparations for war and operational plans, operation lines and operation bases, the relationship between strategic resources for attack and defence, and the significance of battles. Here, I agree with Peter Paret that strategic thought is by nature pragmatic, and therefore conditioned by geographic, social, economic, political, and other realities directly concerning conflicts.210 While I have taken into account subjects relevant to strategy and the challenges of the time, ongoing state strategy is the main subject of this work, a subject difficult to reconstruct due to its institutional character and lack of sources. All strategic concepts, memoranda, regulations, and instructions have been used primarily as a means of illustrating perceptions of strategy by persons and institutions actually forming strategy. From an institutional point of view, of key importance are the circumstances in which military literature developed, especially the attitude of the army towards the publications of officers, which shows that the views of these officers were accepted by the army. Equally important are the content of numerous professional periodicals, especially reviews and polemical articles. The intensity of discussions concerning specific texts reflects the reception by the military community. On the basis of media science theories, Christian Haller noticed that mass communication leads to a network of connections, in which the intensity of group cohesion creates a uniformity of interests and opinions, while weakening influences from outside the group. The effectiveness of the press relies primarily on selecting, structuring, positioning, and repeating specific content, leading to the institutionalisation of certain topics.211 His 208 G. Brüning, Militär-Strategie Österreichs in der Zeit Kaiser Franz ii. (i.), PhD thesis, Westfalischen Wilhelm-Universität in Münster, 1983. 209 Ibid., 5. 210 Paret, ‘Introduction’, Carl von Clausewitz, Two Letters of Strategy, ed. and trans. P. Paret, D. Moran (Fort Leavenworth 1994), 3. 211 Ch. Haller, Militärzeitschriften in der Weimarer Republik und ihr soziokultureller Hintergrund. Kriegsverarbeitung und Milieubildung im Offizierskorps der Reichswehr in publizistischer Dimension (Trier, 2012), 30–31.

42

Introduction

d­ escription corresponds to a strong organisation such as an army. Taking periodicals into account allows for the influence of foreign journals on Prussian strategic thought.212 Analysing that vast resource will facilitate an idea of how representatives of Prussian military thought perceived specific problems and will enable the creation of an image free from stereotypes of how the Prussian army functioned in the years 1815–1830. 3

Structure of the Work

This work has been divided into three parts and fourteen chapters. The first part presents factors that influenced the development of Prussian strategic thought in the years 1815–1830. First, it examines the impact of internal politics on the situation in the army. Subsequent sections identify entities, mechanisms, and procedures that played a decisive role in the shaping of military thought. The second part concerns aspects of defence planning and attempts to illustrate how issues of strategy were perceived in the ongoing activities of the army. Due to the significance of this problem and to the availability of sources, it discusses views on strategy by key decision-makers in the years 1815–1830. In the third part, aspects of theoretical thought are presented in examples from contemporary military literature. To appropriately introduce the main protagonists of the book I have included short select biographies in a separate appendix. 212 Not useful, on the other hand, seems to be Everett M. Rogers’ diffusion-based model of ‘military adoption’ or ‘military emulation’, understood as a process that occurs when an organisation introduces alien (foreign) concepts that alter its structure, principles or procedures. According to Ina Wiesner, of key importance in this process is the phase of acquiring knowledge, in association with the voluntary or forced imitation of specific solutions, which leads to the desire obtaining more detailed information about the subject (I. Wiesner, Importing the American Way of War?: Network-centric Warfare in the UK and Germany (Baden-Baden, 2013), 51–57). Essential, therefore, is a desire to adopt the concepts or solutions of an army that is at the time considered to be exemplary, a situation which, in my opinion, did not apply to Prussian thought in the discussed period.

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Part 1 Conditions for the Development of Prussian Military Thought in the Years 1815–1830

∵

Introduction to Part 1 The Congress of Vienna is widely regarded as the beginning of a new international system in Europe. Although it is hard to agree with Henry Kissinger, who stated that the approach of participating statesmen allowed for the establishment of a new order, it is nevertheless true that there were no wars between the great powers for almost 40 years.1 The ultimate collapse of the French emperor became the basis for creating a reality unlike the so-called ancien regime. Transformations were implanted by the French Revolution and were made widespread during Bonaparte’s successive campaigns. Therefore 1815 marked not only the end of a process, but also a turning point in the history of Europe. One country profoundly affected by these transformations was the Kingdom of Prussia, whose restructuring of instruments of state included the military. By the end of 1806, the Prussian monarchy had fallen. Victories at Jena and Auerstedt afforded Napoleon the opportunity of crushing the power of Hohenzollerns. With the surrender of Prussian fortresses without a single shot being fired, the Frederickian myth also fell.2 The fall was particularly painful because it was what had provided the certainty of the position of the Prussian monarchy of Frederick ii and of his successors.3 The almost total destruction of the standing army and the demoralisation of remaining troops left Frederick William iii at the mercy of the Franco-Russian conflict. Prussia owed its survival only to a combination of Napoleon’s inconsistencies and the political interests of the Russians. Prussia survived, but it now faced a difficult period of restructuring. The years 1807–1815 were a period of more or less successful reforms, but also saw the emergence of further difficult problems. The ultimate consequence of the Congress of Vienna was the creation of a state that resembled neither the monarchy before 1806, nor that from the period of reforms and Wars of Liberation. The changes, from both international and internal circumstances, fundamentally determined the Prussian perception of defence. Strategic thought was not created in a vacuum and was subjected to the same processes as other aspects of the state – the process of normalising the situation on the continent after decades of war and the internal process of establishing a new order. These two processes had a decisive impact on the organisational structure of the Prussian armed forces to which both institutions and persons had to comply. 1 H. Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie. Von den Staatskunst Castlereaghs und Metternichs, transl. H. Jordan (Düsseldorf-Vienna, 1962), 12–13, 199–202. 2 Winkler put it as follows: ‘To be “Frederickian” meant to oppose “old stuff” and support the enlightened state’. H.A. Winkler, Der lange Weg nach Westen, vol 1: Deutsche Geschichte vom Ende des Alten Reiches bis zum Untergang der Weimarer Republik, 7th Ed. (Munich, 2010), 33. 3 Ch. Clark, Iron Kingdom: The Rise and Downfall of Prussia, 1600–1947 (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2006), 306–310; O. Büsch, Militärsystem und Sozialleben im Alten Preussen 1713–1807. Die Anfänge der sozialen Militarisierung der preußisch-deutschen Gesellschaft (Berlin, 1962), 144–170.

Chapter 1

Kingdom of Prussia as an Element of the European Balance of Power Contemporary observers perceived the system created by the Congress of Vienna as bereft of any vestiges of the Romantic era. In the centre of his 1815 caricature, La Balance Politique, Victor Delacroix placed a pair of weighing scales and representatives of the great powers gathered around it. On the left are figures symbolising Great Britain: John Bull and Alfred Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington. Bull rummages through a treasure chest, looking for gold, and with bemusement declares that he only has ‘banquet-notes’ left. Wellington, however, does have gold and, having cast his sword aside, uses it to keep the scales balanced. Behind him, on the extreme left, is a bale with British booty; London controlled Belgium. Out of it, some of the tiny ‘inhabitants’ are trying to escape. The situation on the other side is much more dynamic. The English gold is counterbalanced by figures representing Prussia and Austria placing onto their scale a package containing the German Confederation. One of the figures represents Saxony, onetime rival of Fredrick William iii and now partially in his possession. Both German hegemons claim to be satisfied, but they have to share the reward. Further, with his back turned to them, is the Russian Emperor, sitting astride of what could be an allegorical powder keg. The barrel represents the Polish state and although the Russian ruler is delighted at having conquered ‘his Poland’, he is quite oblivious to the fact that his new subjects crammed inside are attempting to escape. His interlocutor is Charles de Talleyrand, who declares that everything he demands is done for King Louis xviii. Still waiting to be put on the scale is a neatly filled package symbolising Italy. Lesser monarchs of Europe, observing the scene, speechless and helpless, are awaiting the decisions of the great powers. This illustration fully epitomises the mechanisms and challenges faced by the system that the great powers had created. A supreme principle of the new European order was the concept of the balance of powers formulated by Great Britain.1 The prerequisites for the concept were established in the plan of William Pitt the Younger. It assumed that ­Europe should be rebuilt on a community of five powers: Great Britain, France, Austria, Russia, and Prussia. France would be encircled by border fortifications 1 Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 40–47, 140–145.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���� | doi:10.1163/9789004438439_003

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and forces capable of repelling attack until the arrival of allied armies.2 The Netherlands and Prussia were to form a northern flank, while the Kingdom of Sardinia and Austria were to form the southern flank. An Austrian-Prussian union, collectively guaranteed by all the powers, was to be at the centre of this geopolitical formation, implemented by Robert Stewart, Lord Castlereagh.3 Its aim was to create a barrier against a revival of French power, while staunching Russian aspirations to become the hegemon of Europe.4 In this, the concept was in line with the Austrian national interest as perceived by the chief architect of the new order, Klemens Lothar von Metternich.5 According to Thomas Nipperdey, the Austrian politician had three goals: to preserve conservative order in Europe, to guarantee stability and a balance of power by collectively resolving problems, and to combat revolutionary movements that were a threat to Austria.6 This consideration assumed British-Austrian cooperation in building a new European order. Both statesmen granted Prussia a key role in this new security system in order to regain its status as an effective barrier against the expansion of both France and Russia.7 Austria needed, however, to proceed cautiously in order to avoid the strengthening of a traditional rival that could endanger the Austrian monarchy. A key element, therefore, was for Austria and Prussia to create the German Confederation (Deutscher Bund).8 Founded on the ruins of the Holy Roman Empire, the Confederation was the child of practical necessity and compromise.9 According to Kissinger, it was created to ensure security and stability in Central Europe. Since the times of Cardinal Richelieu, he argues, Germany had encouraged France to attempt to expand its territories. The full unification of German states, however, would give them an advantage over France and turn the balance.10 The solution was 2

Also see G.P. Cox, The Halt in the Mud: French Strategic Planning from Waterloo to Sedan (Boulder, San Francisco, Oxford, 1994), 21–23, 33–36. 3 Ibid., 50–52. 4 J. Angelow, Von Wien nach Königgrätz. Die Sicherheitspolitik des Deutschen Bundes im europäischen Gleichgewicht 1815–1866 (Munich, 1996), 21–22; P. Burg, Der Wiener Kongreß. Der Deutsche Bund im europäischen Staatensystem (Munich, 1984), 52–54. 5 On Metternich’s political concepts in detail: Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 14–38; P.W. Schroeder, Metternich’s Diplomacy and Its Zenith 1820–1823 (Austin, 1962), 3–24. 6 Th. Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte 1800–1866. Bürgerwelt und starker Staat (Munich, 1994), 362. 7 Burg, Der Wiener Kongreß, 53; W. Siemann, Vom Staatenbund zum Nationalstaat. Deutschland 1806–1871 (Munich, 1995), 316–318. 8 Angelow, Von Wien, 19–20. 9 Angelow, Der Deutsche Bund (Darmstadt, 2003), 5–6. 10 Kissinger, Diplomacy (New York, London, Toronto, Sydney, Tokyo, Singapore, 1994), 80–81.

Kingdom of Prussia as an Element

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to create a federation incapable of posing a serious threat: ‘The Confederation was basically able to defend itself from the outside, but to use a new concept ‘structurally incapable of attacking’.11 This suited Metternich’s goals.12 For the Austrian statesman, the greatest threat to peace were revolutionary movements, among the most dangerous of which he considered nationalistic irredentism, which included its German version. Hence the Confederation was to be constructed on principles of restoration and legitimism, excluding any national character that threatened monarchical power.13 Metternich had initially shared the Prussian point of view whereby the Bund should be a federation of states with strong central organs of power. This concept, however, was soon threatened when Prussia attempted to annex Saxony, an act that almost led to the outbreak of war between coalition members.14 Metternich feared Prussian expansion because Saxony had been a battleground between the two powers since the Frederickian period. This explains the return to a weakly coordinated federation with the strong counterbalance of the so-called Triaspolitik, a coalition of German rulers defending their rights on the grounds of legitimacy.15 Nipperdey is of the opinion that the Confederation could be described as a dual hegemony of Austria and Prussia marked by strong rivalry. Both had their own interests in the existence of the Confederation. For Austria, it was designed by Metternich as a guarantee for blocking Germany from becoming dominant and side-lining the Habsburgs.16 As Kissinger noted, Austria occupied the convenient position of a moral centre of opposition to liberalism and nationalism, which allowed it to dominate the Confederation despite its peripheral location, thus avoiding possible attempts by the Prussian side to raise a nationalist agenda. The changes in Prussia’s borders had shifted its geopolitical interests from eastern Europe to Germany, whereas Austria’s interests shifted from Germany to the south of the continent. Because of this, Austria was able to preserve its position as an arbiter detached from German affairs. Prussia, on the other hand, was forced to seek support in the Confederation to defend its scattered territories, although with the consent of Austria. Metternich 11 Winkler, Der lange Weg, vol. 1, 72. 12 Angelow, Von Wien, 21; Kissinger, Diplomacy, 83–88; G. Mann, Deutsche Geschichte des xix. Jahrhunderts (Frankfurt am Main-Vienna-Zürich, 1966), 114–130. 13 Mann, Deutsche Geschichte, 120–123; Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte, 355–356. 14 Burg, Der Wiener Kongreß, 12–13, 19–29; Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 186–199. 15 Burg, ‘Die Triaspolitik im Deutschen Bund. Das Problem einer partnerschaftlichem Mitwirkung und eigenständigen Entwicklung des Dritten Deutschland’, Deutscher Bund und deutsche Frage, 136–161; Siemann, Vom Staatenbund, 318–319; Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte, 356–357. 16 Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte, 356.

50

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cleverly transferred the responsibility for defending the Confederation’s borders onto Prussia and simultaneously included a safeguard for the Habsburg monarchy. The existence of a group of smaller states served as a barrier against both revolutionary and hegemonic tendencies. Prussian security policy now faced a difficult alternative: either to support nationalism and unite Germany or to ally itself with Austria against revolution. Due to threatened borders, it was more realistic to opt for the latter alternative, which would, however, hinder reformations to the Confederation.17 Article 2 of the German Confederation Act of the 8th of June 1815 stated that its intention was to ensure external and internal security as well as the independence and inviolability member states.18 Article 11 required member states to defend the Confederation’s territory in the event of external attack, regardless of whether it was directed against the whole Confederation or only its parts. All independent pacts with an enemy were prohibited, especially those concerning truces or peace treaties. Other restrictions included the prohibition of entering into foreign alliances against the Confederation or any of its member states.19 Ultimately, 38 states joined the Confederation, which precluded the possibility of reaching consensus.20 Collectively, however, these states possessed a considerable potential for defence. The German Confederation was, moreover, connected to the pan-­European security system. Three European monarchs ruled the states within the Confederation. The most significant of these was without doubt the king of Great Britain, who at the same time was ruler of Hanover. A role was also played by the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, which belonged to the newly created kingdom of the Netherlands. The emergence of this artificial construction was, as was the German Confederation, an attempt to block French expansion. Thus an attack on northern Germany would automatically result in the formation of a strong coalition. Finally, there was the king of Denmark, who also ruled over Holstein and Lauenburg.21 Characteristically, these two most states in the Confederation owned territories that extended beyond them. Article 1 of the Federative Constitution of Germany stated that Austria and Prussia were included for all of their possessions that had belonged to the Holy

17 Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 269–273. 18 ‘Deutsche Bundesakte’, Dokumente zur deutschen Verfassungsgeschichte, ed. E.R. Huber, vol. 1: Deutsche Verfassunsgdokumente 1803–1850 (Stuttgart, Berlin, Cologne, Mainz, 1978), 85. 19 Ibid, 87–88. 20 Ibid., 86; The Confederation had 38 member states when, but soon the number increased to 39 and eventually 41 in the year 1817. 21 Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte, 362.

Kingdom of Prussia as an Element

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Roman Empire.22 This was c­ ontroversial in Prussia due to its Russian neighbour. Eventually, in 1818, Prussia included in the Confederation its provinces of Pomerania, Silesia, Brandenburg, Saxony, Westphalia, Jülich-Cleves-Berg, and the Lower Rhine Province. Therefore, East and West Prussia, the Grand Duchy of Posen, and the Swiss Duchy of Neuenburg (Neuchâtel), which was the personal property of Prussian rulers, remained outside the Confederation. The inclusion of Silesia and the county of Glatz (Kłodzko) violated provisions of the Constitution. According to Winkler, the established order ‘gave the impression of a declaration of war on German nationalism’,23 for the legitimism and sovereignty of monarchs was considered more important than the matter of nationality.24 The position of Prussia in this system was complicated. The source the problem was the new shape of the Prussian state, which resulted from the need for a balance of power within the system. As Kissinger has noted, defeat in 1806 relegated Prussia to a second class state, which was emphasised by its vassal status during the Moscow campaign.25 In order to again become a major power, Prussia needed to build its potential. The weakest of the powers allowed its territories to be arranged according to the interests of the architects of the new order. The Polish-Saxon crisis showed that the interests of the Hohenzollerns was secondary to the interests of Great Britain, Austria, and Russia. Therefore, the price for Prussia regaining its European power status was acceptance of its role as a keystone for the entire system, resulting in an awkward configuration of the new state. As Christopher Clark put it: ‘This was not a triumph of Prussian will. Berlin failed to get what it wanted ant got what it did not want’.26 The Kingdom of Prussia established at the Congress of Vienna in no way resembled its territory with borders running along the natural barriers of the monarchy created as a result of the Partitions of Poland. As Treitschke noted, Frederick William iii was the first Hohenzollern to leave his successor with a smaller state than he had inherited from his predecessor.27 Negotiations over Prussian territories almost led to an outbreak of war. On the 23rd of November 1814, a conflict broke out between Austria, Prussia, and Great Britain on one side, and Russia on the other. It was caused by Alexander i’s claim that Russian

22 ‘Deutsche Bundesakte’, 85. 23 Winkler, Der lange Weg, vol. 1, 70–71. 24 Siemann, Vom Staatenbund, 320–321. 25 Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 61. 26 Clark, Iron Kingdom, 388. 27 Quoted in: Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2: Das 19. Jahrhundert und Große Themen der Geschichte Preussens, ed. O. Büsch (Berlin-New York, 1992), 77.

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Chapter 1

o­ ccupied territories of the former Duchy of Warsaw28 that should become the basis for a new Polish state united with Russia. This was not to the liking of Russia’s allies, especially to other partitioning powers who had a view to recovering territories that had once belonged to them. The first attempts to resolve the dispute was either to reduce the Duchy’s territory and create a new entity (dependent on or independent of Russia), or to carry out a partition of Poland. The former option seemed more desirable. The plan was to divide the former Duchy’s territories between Austria and Prussia in order to create a strong bloc in Central Europe, and leave to the Poles territories between the Vistula and the Russian border. The implementation of the plan was prevented by Prussia. Contrary to the counsel of his advisors, King Frederick William iii directed his policies based on gratitude towards Russia for having saved his kingdom during the Napoleonic Wars, a situation that precluded a confrontational antiRussian policy. The problem was complicated by a conflict with Metternich over the annexation of Saxony, which was contrary to Austria’s national interest and violated the principles of legitimism. Alexander i, in order to win the king of Prussia to his point of view, promulgated a dispute with Emperor Francis who supported delineating sensible borders between the three powers. The Polish-Saxon Crisis divided the powers into two camps, which escalated a serious confrontation. Alexander i, therefore, proposed the following compromise: Cracow (Kraków) and Thorn (Toruń) would become neutral city-states; Prussia was to regain territory up to the river Prosna; Austria would take Wieliczka and the Tarnopol region. The Russian Tsar, moreover, recommended that national states should be established in these areas. He also supported Prussian annexation of Saxony and removing Bavaria’s control over the fortress in Mainz. The tension reached a zenith. Metternich agitated the so-called third states in Germany that Prussian ambitions with regard to Saxony were a prelude to plans for them becoming the hegemon of the German Confederation. The Austrian politician won this round, reflected in the organisation of the Confederation. Towards the end of December when the prospect of war loomed, Austria, Britain, and France entered into a pact against Russia and Prussia, which overturned the strategic situation in Europe. The matter was resolved in January of 1815.29 In the east, West Prussia, Warmia, Gdańsk 28

The Duchy of Warsaw was a Polish state established by Napoleon i in 1807 from the Polish lands ceded by the Kingdom of Prussia under the terms of the Treaties of Tilsit. The Duchy was held in personal union by one of Napoleon’s allies, King Frederick Augustus i of Saxony. Following Napoleon’s failed invasion of Russia, the Duchy was occupied by Prussian and Russian troops until 1815, when it was formally partitioned at the Congress of Vienna; See J. Czubaty, The Duchy of Warsaw, 1807–1815: A Napoleonic Outpost in Central Europe (London, Oxford, New York, New Delhi, Sydney, 2017). 29 Burg, Der Wiener Kongreß, 9–29; Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 180–202.

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(­Danzig), the Bromberg (Bydgoszcz) Department, and the part of Greater ­Poland where the Grand Duchy of Posen was formed were retained by Prussia. Former parts of the Duchy of Warsaw previously belonging to Prussia now went to Russia, becoming the basis for the creation of the Kingdom of Poland in union with the Russian Empire. Its existence was troubling to the Prussian elites. The Kingdom was considered a separate political entity until 1831, with all its consequences.30 Also worrying was the stance of Alexander i, who put the interests of his new subjects over those of his alliance with Prussia. A border dispute that lasted until 1823 demonstrated the scale of mutual distrust.31 Fundamental were problems between opposing interests of Prussia and Poland. The ownership of territories of West Prussia and Grand Duchy Posen were considered crucial to the existence of each states. The waterways through these territories were of fundamental importance to the Polish economy, and the Hohenzollern control of the mouth of the Vistula was a major challenge for the Poles. As a young officer in 1794, the future Prussian Minister of War, Hermann von Boyen noted that the waterways leading to the Baltic could not be replaced by the Dnieper and Dniester.32 Another contention was Greater Poland protecting the east roads to Berlin which allowed for the preservation of connections between Prussia’s eastern border provinces. Prussian officers were convinced that the Tsar might one day succumb to counsels and unite all the Polish lands.33 In such an atmosphere, the existence of a vast Polish statehood was a permanent source of frustration for the Prussians, who were unable to influence the ambitions of Alexander i. Consequently, the eastern border of the Prussian monarchy was exposed, without any natural barriers, a g­ eopolitical nightmare that remained unchanged for almost a hundred years. The strategic situation did not improve in the key area of Saxony, Prussia’s soft underbelly. 30

31 32 33

This was most emphatically expressed by Clausewitz, who stated that in the event of war, Warsaw should be treated as the capital of a foreign state; ‘Ueber einen künftigen Krieg mit Rußland in so fern er Einfluß auf die Anlegung der Kunststraße nach Preussen hat’, C. von Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze – Studien – Briefe, ed. W. Hahlweg, vol. 2, part 2 (Göttingen, 1990), 1166. Cz. Bloch, Generał Ignacy Prądzyński, 1792–1850 (Warsaw, 1974), 100–116; M. Laubert, Die Verwaltung der Provinz Posen 1815–1847 (Breslau, 1923), 22–26; B. Olszewicz, Polska kartografja wojskowa (Warsaw, 1921), 111–115. ‘Im winter 1794. Ansichten über Pohlen, unvollendet’, Hermann von Boyen und die polnische Frage. Denkschriften von 1794 bis 1846, ed. H. Rothe (Cologne-Weimar-Vienna, 2010), 305–311. Apart from Boyen, this view was also held by two of his subordinate directors of the Departments, Karl von Grolman and Job von Witzleben; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 8–11; ‘Memoire’, W. Dorow, Job von Witzleben, Königlich Preußischer Kriegsminister, General-Lieutnant und General-Adjutant Se. Majestät des Königs. Mittheilungen desselben und seiner Freunde zur Beurteilung Preußischer Zustände und wichtiger Zeitfragen (Leipzig, 1842), appendix B, 116–117.

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An occupation of its territories would block Austria from its traditional offensive route against Berlin, a punishment of the Saxon ruler, Frederick Augustus i, for remaining allied with Napoleon.34 Finally, Prussia received only two fifths of its territory, including Torgau, Wittenberg, and Merseburg, which did not remove the threat. Key decisions, however, were resolved in the west. In accordance with Anglo-Austrian interests, Prussia performed the role of a barrier against French expansion. The Rhineland and Westphalia created a new expanse of land, albeit separated from the rest of the monarchy’s territories by other German states (a distance of 40 kilometres at the narrowest point). At the same time, Austria relinquishing Belgium and the Netherlands put Prussia in the role of guardian of the Franco-German border. The price for this dominance in northern Germany was the need to be in a constant state of readiness in the event of a French invasion, not only with regard to Prussian territories but also those of southern Germany or the Netherlands. Thus Prussia found itself at the centre of the balance of power in Europe and an indispensable participant in any conflict with France. Prussia’s situation was therefore negligible compared with the 1795–1805 period when it had been neutral. In the second half of the 19th century, the geopolitical shift of the Hohenzollern monarchy to the west and into Germany was generally considered beneficial,35 it was primarily seen as a source of problems in 1815. The situation necessitated a means for guaranteeing territorial security and integrity for the Kingdom of Prussia. A solution seemed to be the exchange of territories with another German state in order for the country to acquire a more compact configuration. Such projects were considered, for instance by Carl von Clausewitz, but remained only on paper.36 Without altering the territory of the state, a way of guaranteeing security was to put as many territories as possible under the protection of the German Confederation. However, as discussions over implementing German Confederation provisions regarding eastern provinces indicate, this was far from a natural process. The chief advocate of including all Prussian territories in the German Confederation was Frederick William iii, who feared his eastern neighbour.37 Neither Austria nor other German states were positive about this provision. A common axis of anxiety was Prussian dominance of the Confederation. Restricting access to 34 Burg, Der Wiener Kongreß, 12. 35 Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte, 274–275; Siemann, Vom Staatenbund, 314. 36 ‘Über den Gedanken eines Ländertauschs zur Verbindung der Ost-und Westmasse der Preußischen Monarchie nach den Befreiungskriegen 20. Januar 1818’, Clausewitz, Verstreute, 267–274. 37 A. Stern, Geschichte Europas seit der Verträgen von 1815 bis zum Frankfurter Frieden von 1871, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1894), 324–327.

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the Confederation of territories that previously belonged to the Holy Roman Empire, according Enno Kraehe, was an attempt to placate Bavaria, whose ruler was hostile to all ideas that did not serve the purpose of defending German territories.38 This raised the question whether the Bund would consider it a casus belli, for instance, if Russia attacked the Oder line because Silesia had belonged to Habsburg until the time of Frederick ii, and therefore could be argued as a part of the Holy Roman Empire. This point of view was presented by Chancellor Karl von Hardenberg. From the account of Boyen, we know that a commission was to state in March 1818 which territories should be included in the Confederation.39 A well-known proponent of leaving as much Prussian territory outside the Bund as possible was Wilhelm von Humboldt, who argued that this would ensure Prussian independence and the rank of a European power. Including the entire country in the Bund, he claimed, would reduce it to the same status as Bavaria, Württemberg, and Hanover, thus undermining the trust of other powers and a reason to exclude Prussia from their circle.40 A different point of view was held both by the king and the director of the 3rd Department of the Ministry of War, Job von Witzleben, who argued that a full inclusion of Prussia would oblige other German states to guarantee its security. Because of its location, Prussia could not remain neutral in the event of Germany being attacked from outside, whereas if its eastern and western provinces were simultaneously attacked it would be required to defend the Confederation on the Rhine but protect its eastern provinces in isolation.41 Witzleben maintained that Prussia had been a major power for over a century and that leaving a quarter of its territories outside the Confederation was ridiculous.42 He argued for including in the Confederation as many provinces as possible, especially Silesia and Lusatia.43 The only alternative would be to form a defensive alliance with the Confederation or a pact with Austria and Russia, neutralising its eastern provinces.44 A thorough analysis of possible scenarios was carried out by Boyen, who, opposed within the Confederation and by Russia, did not believe that the full

38 E.A. Kraehe, ‘Austria, Russia and the German Confederation’, Deutscher Bund, 271. 39 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 219, Abschrift, Gutachten was für Länder dem Deutschen Bunde betreten sollen, Berlin, 19th March 1818, 1. 40 His views are known from Witzleben’s polemics; ‘Memoire’, 117–119. 41 [‘Witzleben’s Memorandum, Berlin, 24th March 1818’], Dorow, Job von Witzleben, appendix C, 121–122. 42 ‘Memoire’, 115–117. 43 [‘Witzleben’s Memorandum, Berlin, 24th March 1818’], 121–123, 125–126. 44 Ibid., 123–125.

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inclusion of Prussia was possible.45 The minister of war was sceptical about forming a defensive with the German Confederation to protect Prussia’s external territories. He believed it was prudent to wait to see how the Confederation would behave in a political crisis. However, if Prussia was to guarantee defence of the western parts of the organisation, the lack of a guarantee securing its eastern provinces would hinder its abilities to act on both fronts. Its strategic situation was unfavourable in comparison with the position of Austria.46 According to Boyen, Silesia and Lusatia were the most likely targets of attack from the east. The inclusion of these provinces in the German Confederation would ensure that they would not be left to defend themselves in isolation. Boyen, however, believed that there was no guarantee that the German rulers would support Prussia. For this state of affairs he also blamed Russia, whose resistance to the inclusion of Prussia could have been for several reasons: the unwillingness of a direct border with the Confederation or a desire to assume those two provinces. Boyen wanted Silesia to be included from the river Prosna to the Cracow region, with Cosel (Koźle) and Nysa (Neisse) becoming Confederation fortresses, thus guaranteeing the defence of Silesia in the event of war. The Prussian minister of war stressed the need for Prussia and Austria to cooperate in ensuring peace in the east. In the event of a conflict, however, the Prussian and Austrian armies would act independently. A third army was to be created, comprising forces of the remaining German Federal states, which were to form a reserve in central Germany, most probably on the Main and in Thuringia. Creation of such a third army under the leadership of Bavaria would pose a threat to Prussia, because the goal of South German rulers was to ensure armed neutrality and passively wait on the development of events.47 Boyen proposed a treaty between the three eastern courts, concerning Galicia, Silesia, Greater Poland, Prussia, and the Kingdom of Poland. Parts of the regulation already existed in treaties and it seemed possible to extend it. Boyen, however, believed the best solution would be closer cooperation between Prussia and Austria in the case of Confederation fortresses.48 The same considerations were made in Austria, where a Russian aggression on Polish territories granted by the treaty was feared.49 Diplomatic tension was demonstrated when Alexander i warned Metternich against attempts to turn the Bund into an anti-Russian alliance. Alexander was joined by the fears of other Confederation members. The king 45 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 219, Gutachten was für Länder, 1. 46 Ibid., 1v-3. 47 Ibid., 3-6v. 48 Ibid., 10v-11. 49 Kraehe, ‘Austria, Russia’, 271–272.

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of Bavaria, who had been against all ventures beyond Germany, promised in Saint Petersburg that he wouldn’t send his subjects to the Memel (Niemen) a third time to fight for a foreign cause.50 In such a situation, securing the eastern marches of Prussia was out of question. Prussia’s unfavourable situation also resulted from the nature of the organisation of armed forces within the Confederation. Negotiations in this matter from the outset took the form of Austro-Prussian rivalry. In 1817, in Carlsbad (Karlovy Vary), the Prussian side was represented by Hermann von Boyen and Maj. Gen. Ludwig von Wolzogen. Boyen’s intentions were to ensure Prussian hegemony in northern Germany, secure Prussia’s western possessions, and prevent the formation of a ‘third force’ by small and medium-sized German states within the Confederation. He was equally against the creation of a permanent administrative body or military command. His proposal was to form three armies: the first was to defend the Netherlands, with the support of Hanover; the second was to be led by Prussia and defend the Lower Rhine; the third was to defend the Upper Rhine and comprise South German units under Austrian command. The remaining states, primarily Denmark and Saxony, were to form a general reserve. Boyen estimated that the Confederation armies would require recruiting 2.5 to 3 percent of the population and another 1.5 to 2 percent to man the fortresses.51 This proposal was met with a retort from Vienna. The representative of Austria, Maj. Gen. August von Steigentesch, proposed smaller Confederation state forces into four corps, to which would be added the corps of Austria and Prussia, counting 30,000 men.52 In total, these forces were to include 120,000 soldiers, which as Wolzogen rightly notes evoked a smile of pity form Moscow and Paris.53 Prussia was dissatisfied that Saxony should lead a corps comprising soldiers from the small German states, which threatened its position in northern Germany.54 In the face of mutual dissatisfaction, Steigentesch presented a second project according to which, in the event of war, Federal forces were to increase from 120,000 to 412,000 soldiers, i.e., 2 percent of the German Confederation’s population. A third of a percentage point were to incorporate reinforcements to man the fortresses. Federal forces were to be divided into 11 units. In the event of war, the army was to divide into two parts under the commands of Prussia and Austria. The overall 50 Ibid., 272–273. 51 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2: 1814 bis 1848, 280–281. 52 Ibid., 281; Reprint of Metternich’s instruction for Steingentesch; ‘Instruktion Metternichs vom 4. Juni 1817 für Generalmajor v. Steigentesch zur Ausarbeitung und Verhandlung der Bundeskriegsverfassung’, Angelow, Von Wien, appendix 1, 283–286. 53 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 287. 54 Ibid., 282.

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command was to be decided by the Federal Convention. This solution still did not take into account Prussian interests in northern Germany.55 The failure of negotiations and opposition from some German states led to the matter being entrusted to a Military Committee, which developed a set of rules regarding the Federal forces which was adopted in April 1821.56 The Federal forces (Bundesheer) comprised military contingents provided by member states to collectively form ten army corps: 1 to 3 Corps provided by Austria, 4 to 6 by Prussia, 7 by Bavaria, and 8, 9, and 10 by a combined contingent of the remaining states. It was assumed that each state would contribute one percent of its population, which according to an 1819 census would provide 301,637 armed troops. In the event of war, a reserve force was to be appointed of at least 450,000 troops. The combined total figure in the event of war would be far inferior to the real capabilities of the German states.57 Differences in the size of the various contingents, could cause serious difficulties in the case of a war.58 Moreover, only the Prussian contingent actually existed, because it was formed of vi, vii, and vii corps of a standing army. The contingents of other German states were to be created only in the event of war. Therefore, the peacetime military potential of the Bund was limited to the army of the Hohenzollern state.59 In addition, no permanent body was engaged in war planning or deciding on the command structure in the case of a conflict. The commander-inchief of the Federal forces was to be decided by the Federal Convention only once a war began, and his duties were to include preparation and presentation of a campaign plan.60 The Confederation’s only permanent military body was the Federal Military Commission (Bundesmilitärkommission, bmk), made up of staff officers representing the ten Confederation contingents. The most important roles of which were played by representatives of Austria and Prussia.61 The tasks of the Bundesmilitärkommission included: dealing with all the ­technical issues raised by the Federal Convention, recording the numbers of 55 56

Ibid., 283–285. ‘Kriegsverfassung des Deutschen Bundes in ihren allgemeinen Umrissen und wesentlichen Bestimmungen’, Angelow, Von Wien, appendix 3, 290–308. 57 H. Seier, ‘Zur Frage der militärischen Exekutive in der Konzeption der Deutschen Bundes’, Staatsverfassung und Heeresverfassung in der Europäischen Geschichte der frühen Neuzeit, ed. J. Kunisch (Berlin, 1986), 417–432. 58 P. Galperin, Deutsche Wehr im Deutschen Bund 1815–1866, mit gesonderten Hinweisen auf die Bewaffnung, die Marine, die Soldatenversorgung, die Wehrfinanzierung (Osnabrück, 2000), 28–51. 59 E. Wienhöfer, Das Militärwesen des Deutschen Bundes und das Ringen zwischen Österreich und Preussen um die Vorherrschaft in Deutschland 1815–1866 (Osnabrück, 1973), 62–65. 60 Ibid., 60–61; Seier, ‘Zur Frage’, 422–426. 61 Galperin, Deutsche Wehr, 13–14.

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soldiers in contingents, overseeing the Federal fortresses, and supervising fortification works.62 Thus consisting of an entity that was only capable of defence. This situation to a large extent resulted from conflicting interests of the main Federal states, which viewed each other with suspicion while at the same time desiring maximum security with minimum dependence on their partners. The limited usefulness of Federal forces was illustrated in the opinion of Boyen on their role in the event of an anticipated Russian aggression against Prussia. Their participation in such a conflict would cause problems, because their task was exclusively to defend the borders of the Confederation. Provinces in the so-called line of neutrality would therefore be forced to fend for themselves. The presence of an inactive Federal army would at the same time weaken the defence of these provinces because they would sap the resources of the Prussian army.63 It was doubtful whether Prussia could receive Federal support from Bavaria in a war against Russian aggression. The German Confederation in military terms was clearly of an anti-French nature.64 This was apparent in the case of three fortresses in Mainz, Luxembourg, and Landau, which due to their location were in the years 1825–1831 given the status of Federal fortresses.65 All three were to resist attacks from the west. At least half of the Mainz garrison and three quarters of the garrison in Luxembourg were Prussian. The selection of these fortresses was associated with the Prussian defence system. Luxembourg blocked French troops advancing to the north east, supported by the Prussian fortress in Saarlouis. Mainz defended the Middle Rhine against enemy advances from the Moselle, and was itself protected by Prussian fortresses om Koblenz and Ehrenbreitstein. Cologne and Wesel were to secure the operational base in the north. Thus Prussia was committed to a conflict with France should they intervene in Germany. Maintaining large forces on the western border, so beneficial to other Confederation members as well, was made necessary for Prussia. Prussia would likewise have to rely on the support of Austria, because individually it would be unable to resist the French.66 In this way, Prussia found itself in a situation that forced it to defend Confederation borders but could not count on support in the event of its own eastern borders being threatened. 62

W. Keul, Die Bundesmilitärkommission (1819–1866) als politisches Gremium. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Deutschen Bundes (Frankfurt am Main, Bern, Las Vegas, 1977), 63–68. 63 ‘Über die Beschlüsse von Karlsbad, 26th October 1819’, Hermann von Boyen, 346–349. 64 Cox, The Halt in the Mud, 75–78. 65 Berlin, Bundesarchiv Abteilung Berlin-Lichterfelde (bab), Militärkommission des Deut­ schen Bundes, db 5/I/45, Beschluss der deutschen Bundesversammlung in der 19ten Sitzung vom 28. Juli 1825, s.p. 66 Wienhöfer, Das Militärwesen, 69–73.

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The situation left the Kingdom of Prussia with little room for any manoeuvre in international politics. The only advantage was that the weight of Prussia’s military position, though disproportionate to its actual strength, made it the leading power in the Concert of Europe. This in theory allowed it to participate in the process of building a European security system. Realising the scale of threats, Frederick William iii made foreign policy his exclusive domain. His priority was to prevent the engagement of Prussia in the event of an outbreak of war.67 After 1815, Prussian foreign policy was effectively one of simply reacting to events. The determinator of German state policies was primarily Metternich, supported by the pro-Austrian attitude of Hardenberg and other leading Prussian politicians.68 An organisation established on the initiative of the British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Lord Castlereagh, on the 20th of November 1815, initially comprising four members of an anti-Napoleonic coalition, became the basis for resolving disputes in Europe. What drew together the initial four members, Austria, Prussia, Russia, and Great Britain, was fear of the rebirth of French hegemony, as well as the prevention of any other state from attaining a dominant position. Castlereagh proposed tackling ongoing European issues with periodic congresses.69 A key step in realising British interests was the inclusion of France during the first Congress, held in Aachen in November 1818. The confirmation of the country the fear of which had united the system was an example of farsightedness. From the Prussian perspective, however, the matter was of an exceptionally problematic nature. The humiliating defeat of 1806 meant that in the years 1814–1815 many Prussian decisionmakers harboured a fanatical hatred of France. Particularly outspoken were nationalist-minded liberals under the patronage of Blücher and Gneisenau. The symbol of Prussian revanchism was the attempt to dynamite the Pont d’Iéna in Paris.70 The Prussians also forcefully supported the idea of economically exploiting Coalition-occupied French territories. The heaviest contributions were imposed on inhabitants of the Prussian-occupied zone, which were only in part justified by the needs of an occupying forces.71 A mixture of fear and contempt between the Prussian forces and French public were very tense, 67

Handbuch der preussischen, vol. 2, 158; G. Steckhan, Preußen und Neuorientierung der europäischen Staatengesellschaft auf dem Aachener Kongress 1818 (Berlin, 1934), 4–5. 68 Steckhan, Preußen, 5–6. 69 It is worth noting that according to Paul W. Schroeder, only the meeting in Verona was really a congress, whereas all the other meetings, on account of the absence of some of the powers, had only the status of conferences; Schroeder, Metternich’s Diplomacy, xi. 70 V.R. Wacker, Die Alliierte Besetzung Frankreichs in den Jahren 1814 bis 1818 (Hamburg, 2001), 124–127; Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 118–120. 71 Wacker, Die Alliierte, 121–124, 147–148.

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until Prussian exacuation.72 There was a deep-rooted distrust of Bourbon France and its recent allies, manifested by demands to extend the stay of the Occupation Army and the creation of a special military system to prevent the reawakening of French expansionist tendencies.73 These tendencies were observed anxiously. A letter with such an alarmist tone was sent by Col. Karl von Müffling, then attached to Wellington’s Occupation Army Headquarters, to Frederick William iii in November 1817.74 In the text,75 the future Field Marshal pointed to a change in the mood among French subjects. Under the influence of the Royalist Party, from 1816 support for the Bourbons and for Louis xviii rapidly rose. This resulted from the acceptance of certain elements of Prussia’s western neighbour’s policy. These included demands for the fastest possible evacuation from France of the Occupation Army, modification of the peace treaty regulations, and the recognition of the Rhine as the natural border of France with a view to regaining its control. In the press, strongly worded appeals to raise troop numbers in the French army to 160,000 were expressed. All these facts constituted evidence of a desire to return to a policy of expansion, and Louis xviii was considered by Müffling as an enemy of Prussia. The only obstacle to the realisation of French aspirations was seen as the occupation forces, whose strength had, nevertheless, been reduced to 30,000 troops in the last year.76 This development was a major political success for the French, placing Prussia in a difficult strategic situation. Wellington was of little use in this matter. He was among politicians who saw advantages in reducing occupying forces and increasing the authority of the French monarch, whose abilities, nonetheless, he clearly doubted.77 The differences in opinion between the two men was reflected in Müffling’s account of consultations he had with Wellington in Paris in February of 1818.78 During the discussion, which lasted an hour and a half, the Prussian officer presented propositions for more rapid construction of fortifications on the

72 73 74

Ibid., 194–202. Ibid., 229–230. The text is know from a copy sent to Hardenberg; GStA pk, vi. ha, Nachlass Karl von Hardenberg (herafter Hardenberg), K 55, Müffling to Hardenberg, Koblenz, 22nd December 1817, 2. 75 Ibid., Karl von Müffling’s memorandum, Koblenz, ­November 1817, 3-6v. Cf. ibid., Müffling to Hardenberg, Paris, 4th February 1818, 14-15v. 76 Wacker, Die Alliierte, 217–219. 77 GStA pk, vi. ha, Hardenberg, K 55, Müffling to Hardenberg, Paris, 4th February 1818, 14-15v. 78 Ibid., Müffling to Hardenberg, Paris, 7th February 1818, 9.

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Rhine and in the Netherlands79 in response to the evacuation of occupation forces and what he believed to be intentions of the Bourbon Monarchy. Wellington’s replies did not satisfy the Prussian officer. The victor of Waterloo believed that the authority of the French government had declined due to mistakes that had resulted in the ascendance of other European powers. He, therefore, felt one could not speak of any political force supporting pro-war sentiments on the part of France. Wellington, while considering all possible threats, was of the opinion that at least until 1820 there would be no threat of war in a united Europe. He felt that the French army was too weak to attempt territorial expansion and that fortification was far advanced enough that by 1819 on the Rhine and in the Netherlands it would pose a formidable barrier against any potential aggressor. In consideration of strong public resistance in the provinces, Wellington believed that the Occupation Army should complete its mission no later than 1819. Evacuation of units began in August of 1818. From the Prussian point of view, the approach was too soft. Politicians and the military were determined to conclude a pan-European treaty to guarantee borders, but this lacked a positive response from some states.80 Amid conflicting interests in Aachen, Castlereagh’s idea of including France in the Concert of Europe prevailed, which completely dashed Prussian hopes for security on the German Confederation’s western border. The plans were unacceptable to Berlin. The Dutch defence system was of key importance to the Prussians and to ensure that it was completed they applied separate means of supervision.81 The Prussian Occupation Corps commanded by Lt General Wieprecht Hans von Zieten remained formally subordinate to Gneisenau’s Rhineland General Command until May 1816. This was meant to guarantee a rapid concentration of Prussian forces in the event of a French offensive.82 Gneisenau, among others, was in favour of a temporary occupation of French border fortresses.83 In Aachen, this idea evolved into the concept of an ‘Army of Observation’ under the command of Wellington, involved Allied forces manning fortresses in France, as well as in the Netherlands until it acquired the ability to defend ­itself.84 Due to British resistance, this attempt to alleviate consequences of 79

Ibid., Unterredung mit der Herzog Wellington die Befestigung der Grenzen gegen Frankreich betreffend, s.l., February 1818, 10–13. 80 Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 265–266; Schroeder, Metternich’s Diplomacy, 14; Steckhan, Preußen, 80–83. 81 K. Hampe, Das belgische Bollwerk. Eine aktenmässige Darlegung einer Barrierestellung, Neutralität und Festungspolitik Belgiens (Stuttgart und Berlin, 1918), 29–30; Steckhan, Preußen, 85–89. 82 Wacker, Die Alliierte, 226–227. 83 Ibid., 229–230. 84 Hampe, Das belgische Bollwerk, 28; Steckhan, Preußen, 88–89.

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ending occupation meant that the Prussian side had to be satisfied with the signing of a secret anti-French protocol on the 15th of November 1818 and a complementary agreement regarding fortifications.85 Theoretically, this signified a will to keep France under special supervision by including a secret alliance of the four powers.86 Repeating the resolutions of the treaties of Paris and Chaumont, the four powers agreed that each would provide 30,000 auxiliary troops in the event of war. Within two months of any declaration of war, a British corps was to arrive in Brussels, and Prussian and Austrian troops were to concentrate in Cologne and Stuttgart. Russian troops were to arrive in Mainz a month later. These arrangements only partially satisfied the Hohenzollern state. Boyen’s demands for an increase of allied forces to 150,000 were not fulfilled. The temporary manning of Belgian fortresses by English and Prussian troops was left as only a recommendation by King William i. Fears of a French invasion prompted Prussia to petition for stationing a permanent ‘observation corps’ in the Rhineland, which would have the right to enter the Netherlands even before outbreak of war.87 This condition considerably altered the secret protocol, which had reserved for the British the exclusive right to enter Belgium. The belt of fortresses on the Meuse and Scheldt became the main issue for Prussian diplomacy in late 1818 and early 1819. To this end, Müffling was sent to Brussels with a mission to establish cooperation with the Dutch ruler, who had so far been openly hostile to Prussia.88 During his mission, which began in November 1818, the Prussian representative realised that the king of the Netherlands and his advisers perceived their military position as detached from reality. The attitude of England was also ambiguous in this context. Wellington, having considerable influence in the Brussels court, blocked William i from handing over the Prussian general’s projects, deceiving him that he was preparing his own project regarding the future of the coalition. He also kept the Dutch monarch unaware of any real prospects of British military support, thus stiffening the Dutch ruler’s stance and undermining any attempts to establish cooperation between the Netherlands and Prussia.89 Müffling’s efforts to promote a comprehensive plan for the coalition in the event of war, which 85 GStA pk, iii. ha, Ministerium des Äußeren (hereafter MdA), i Nr. 1604, Militärprotokoll der Bevollmächtigten Österreichs, Großbritanniens, Preußens und Russlands auf dem Kongreß in Aachen, Aachen, 15th November 1818, Document texts published by Hampe, Das belgische Bollwerk, appendices 1 and 2, 177–182. 86 Schroeder, Metternich’s Diplomacy, 13–14. 87 Hampe, Das belgische Bollwerk, 28–30; Steckhan, Preußen, 89–90. 88 H. von Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte im Neunzehnten Jahrhundert, part. 2: Bis zu den Karlsbader Beschlüssen (Leipzig, 1882), 470–473. 89 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 48, Abschrift: Bericht an das Fürsten Staats-Kanzler Durchlaucht, Brussels, 27th November 1818, 2–5.

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also took into account the concept of the ‘observation corps’, were to no avail.90 The failure of his mission showed Prussia’s weak position in the international arena and the increasing divergence of interests between the states of the coalition.91 Castlereagh in particular had no sympathy for the proposals of the Prussian ‘militarists’. Thus, although Prussia was an integral part of the ­pan-European system, the security of its territories was solely a Prussian responsibility. Aachen also emphasised the fear of revolutionary movements, a dominant idea of the coalition. Its symbol became the Holy Alliance of the three eastern powers, signed on the 26th of September 1815. According to the declaration, its aim was to promote principles of Christianity in foreign policy and uphold its legitimism in Europe. Soon almost all Christian states on the Continent became members of this alliance. The exception was the United Kingdom, which objected to the religious declaration. According to Kissinger, this was Metternich’s method for channelling Alexander i’s messianic inclinations and preserving the status quo in Europe.92 What concerned Metternich was what for Alexander could become a pretext for expansion.93 1818 marked a turning point in the worldview of the Russian tsar.94 A sign of this state of affairs was, for example, a memorandum written for the tsar and presented in Aachen on the situation in Germany, suggesting a major threat to the established order.95 Subsequent congresses in Opava (1820), Ljubljana (1821), and Verona (1822) led to the final crystallisation of the rules of intervention in response to an attempt to overthrow a monarch. This was a success for Metternich, who both gained support for order in Europe an understanding with a terrifying ally, ­Alexander i.96 The agreements of later congresses granted Austria a mandate to enforce peace in the Kingdom of Naples and the Kingdom of Sardinia, and France the right to invade Spain.97 90 Steckhan, Preußen, 89–94. 91 Wacker, Die Alliierte, 229–230. 92 Kissinger, Diplomacy, 82–84. 93 Asked by an officer in 1816 on the need to maintain over 800, 000 troops, the Tsar was said to have replied that is was justified by the position of Russia, forcing it to have as many troops as the combined forces of Austria and Prussia; F.W. Kagan, ‘Russian War Planning 1815–1856’, The Fog of Peace and War Planning. Military and Strategic Planning Under Uncertainty, ed. T.C. Ismay, M.D. Toft (London-New-York, 2006), 28; Concern over the possibility of Russian aggression against the German Confederation was also expressed in January 1818 by Field Marshal Karl von Schwarzenberg; Angelow, Von Wien, 31. 94 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 2, 443–445. 95 Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 159; Kraehe, ‘Austria, Russia’, 275–276. 96 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3: Bis zur Julirevolution (Leipzig, 1885), 162–163. 97 Ibid., 177–183, 270–272.

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The situation for Prussia in that period was troubling. Internal disputes between conservatives and reformers weakened Prussia while arousing the suspicions of other powers, especially Russia. Assessing the mood in the Prussian army, the tsar was supposed even to have considered whether he would need to intervene to save Frederick William iii.98 The German monarch from Berlin repeatedly had to explain to St. Petersburg and Vienna what they perceived to be a revolutionary organisation within his armed forces.99 Metternich was particularly worried by Prussia’s constitutional ideas, which he personally expressed in his correspondence with Frederick William iii.100 The Prussian monarch was therefore not only under considerable pressure from a proportion of his subjects and from public opinion, but also from outside powers. This state of affairs was highlighted by events associated with the so-called Carlsbad Decrees. The Aachen diagnosis of the Russian tsar was illustrated by such events as the student corporation rally in Wartburg on the 18th of October 1817, as well as the murder of August von Kotzebue by Karl Ludwig Sand.101 The effect of the state of affairs was a turn towards conservatism in the German Confederation. Agreeded to by Prussia and Austria in Carlsbad on the 1st of August 1819, restrictions were imposed on universities, the press, and parliaments. These measures were officially adopted by the Bundestag in September of that year and became known as the Carlsbad Decrees. In the pan-German context, this meant consent to remove noncompliant professors and any persons deemed to be demagogic, the dissolution of all self-regulating student bodies, and the imposition of censorship.102 In Prussia, this meant the defeat for the reformers’ party. In a short space of time, ministers Wilhelm von Humboldt, Carl Friedrich von Beyme, and Hermann von Boyen resigned, and, as a gesture of solidarity, so did Boyen’s closest collaborator Karl von Grolman. Although Chancellor Karl von Hardenberg held on to his post for somewhat longer, until 1822. His death marked the ultimate defeat of the reformers’ party.103 It symbolised the position of Prussia in that period. Internal weakness was the reason why, in the words of Christopher Clark, ‘Prussia remained a subject and not the object of the international system after 1815’ and to such an extent that

98

G.H. Pertz, H. Delbrück, Das Leben des Feldmarschalls Graf Neithardt von Gneisenau, vol. 5 (Berlin, 1880), 20. 99 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 170–173. 100 Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 157; Kissinger, Grossmacht Diplomatie, 278–279. 101 Clark, Iron Kingdom, 356–357; Winkler, Der lange Weg, vol. 1, 73–74. 102 Winkler, Der lange Weg, 74–75. 103 Clark, Iron Kingdom, 401–402.

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one could say that it ‘belonged to a lower category, somewhere between the real powers and the small European states’.104 Prussian foreign policy in the years 1815–1830 can be divided into two periods. The first lasted until the death of Hardenberg in 1822 and was marked by contradictory tendencies resulting from internal reform efforts and the external pressure of conservative powers. The balance of the 1820s was a period when the Holy Alliance completely dominated Prussian diplomacy. Prussia adopted a passive stance in the international arena, consolidating its conquests and avoiding any attempts of further expansion.105 Maintaining cohesion of the Holy Alliance was, from the point of view of Frederick William iii, the cornerstone of the European structure. The behaviour of Prussia was reticent in comparison with the interventionist policies of Austria and France. While observing possible escalation of conflicts in Spain, Naples, and Sardinia, Prussia was far from committing itself to armed engagement. In the case of uprisings in Italy, Prussia fully agreed with Austria’s stance. However, according to Heinrich von Treitschke, Frederick William iii was determined to protect his state from taking on new burdens, such as sacrificing men and resources in Southern Europe. Therefore, granting Austria a free hand in dealing with the matter satisfied Prussian aspirations.106 The same motivation was behind Prussian acceptance of the French intervention in Spain. Prussia provided moral support, although, according to its ruler, the state’s geographical location precluded any physical involvement.107 The greatest test for this policy was a crisis that erupted in the east in connection with the Greek War of Independence in the years 1821–1829.108 The main problem was caused by the opposing interests of Austria and Russia. Metternich was in favour of treating the Greeks as revolutionaries. A ­ lexander i, instead, was inclined to view the Greeks as a Christian people in need. The 104 Ibid., 397. 105 Here, in particular it should be noted that in the 1820s efforts were made to create customs unions within the German Confederation. This was because the ability of individual German states to impose customs duties greatly burdened the Hohenzollern state with its scattered territories; Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 358–361. 106 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 155–156. 107 Ibid., 269. 108 The Greek War of Independence was a successful war of independence waged by Greek revolutionaries against the Ottoman Empire between 1821 and 1830. The Greeks were later assisted by the Russian Empire, Great Britain, and the Kingdom of France. The three Great Powers decided to intervene, sending their naval squadrons to Greece in 1827. The Battle of Navarino led to the destruction of the Ottoman–Egyptian fleet and turned the tide in favor of the insurgents. In 1828 the Egyptian army withdrew under pressure of a French expeditionary force and Russia invaded the Ottoman Empire and forced it to accept Greek autonomy in the Treaty of Adrianople (1829).

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Austrian point of view prevailed.109 The matter re-emerged in 1822 when the Austrian diplomat had to dissuade the tsar from armed intervention. The argument was that engagement would put Alexander i on the side of the revolutionaries.110 The Prussia position was awkward.111 While there was a desire to preserve peace and therefore support Austria, philhellenism was strong within Prussia.112 And it was not only philhellenes who stood behind a Prussian war party. In a letter to Oldwig von Natzmer of the 25th of December 1821, Prince William, the future German emperor and commander of the 1st Guards Division, stated that an outbreak of war would be advantageous to Prussia, as armed engagement would provide a chance to overcome the weaknesses that had beset the monarchy. For Prince William a long-term peace was dangerous. The prince also shared concerns concerning Russian hegemony, which could result from a partial conquest of Turkey.113 The Prussian king, however, would not agree to engagement in war. The apparent defeat of the Greeks in 1825 brought prospects of a pan-European conflict much closer. Yet Frederick William iii still refused to take sides.114 The Prussians understood that Austria wanted to avoid war, whereas Russia was determined to support the Greeks. The stance of the Hohenzollern Monarchy was equivocal. Prussia was equally against the destruction of Turkey as it was against the destruction of the Greeks.115 The death of Alexander i began a new chapter. The policies of his successor led to an intensification of the European course against Turkey. Britain and Russia were inclined to cooperate to enforce autonomy for the fighting Greeks. Metternich was a definite opponent of such a solution. The policy of its ruler was now becoming dangerous for Prussia. Although Frederick William iii wanted to prevent a massacre of the Greeks, he would not support any action unless it had the approval of all five powers, although resolving the crisis in the Orient was not worth damaging the alliance with Austria. At the Prussian court two parties clashed: the conservatives in support of Metternich and the ­philhellenes in favour of intervention. A pro-Russian policy was favoured by 109 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 187–189. 110 Ibid., 256–260. 111 K. Pröhl, Die Bedeutung preußischer Politik in den Phasen der orientalischen Frage: Ein Beitrag zur Entwicklung deutsch-türkischer Beziehungen von 1606 bis 1871 (Frankfurt am Main, Bern, New York, 1986), 172–173. 112 Ibid., 255–256; E.D. Brose, The Politics of Technological Change in Prussia. Out of the Shadow of Antiquity, 1809–1848 (Princeton, 1993), 80–89, 111–114, 184–189; Siemann, Vom Staatenbund, 335–337. 113 G.E. von Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern. Denkwürdigkeiten aus dem Leben des Generals Oldwig v. Natzmer, part 1: 1820–1832 (Gotha, 1887), 102–104. 114 Ibid., 200. 115 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 360.

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Prince William which also reflected the mood of some in the officer corps.116 When the Russo-Turkish War broke out in 1828, the prospect of a conflict between European powers became evident. An Anglo-Austrian alliance was forming, while on the other side a Franco-Russian one was emerging, with the possible inclusion of Prussia. In Vienna, a serious plan of action against Russia and Prussia was considered. In the Kingdom of Poland, Grand Duke Konstantin was considering armed action, but against Austria and Prussia.117 The increasing conflict aroused French aspirations to recapture its frontier on the Rhine.118 Berlin now faced a dilemma. According to Treitschke, in the event of war, Prussia would be forced to choose between shedding blood in a war on two fronts in support of Austria’s incomprehensible interests in the Orient or in a war against Austria, thus risking the destruction of the German Confederation.119 Prussia’s role in the conflict actually turned out to be that of a peaceful mediator between the two imperial courts. Without a doubt, the persuasion of Nicholas i to end the war against Turkey was a major diplomatic success. It was the result of the mediation of the then Chief of General Staff of the Army Karl von Müffling120 in 1829 in the signing of a peace treaty between Russia and Turkey.121 Avoiding the outbreak of a conflict was the basic achievement of Prussian foreign policy in that period. It should be acknowledged that Russian compliance was largely responsible for the changing fortunes in the conflict. Peace in Europe, however, lasted for only a short time. In July 1830, a revolution broke out in Paris, which triggered a chain of events that completely altered Prussia’s strategic situation. The geopolitical situation for the Kingdom of Prussia in the first fifteen years after the Napoleonic wars was far from ideal. Prussia was the weakest member of an elite group of powers, which entailed the necessity of participating in risky initiatives. It was paradoxical that two close allies of Prussia posed the greatest threat to its realisation of territorial ambitions. The chief safeguard for Prussia was the role it played in the anti-French security plans. This, however, created the problem of protecting acquired territories in the west while having to defend its eastern frontiers in solitude. The weakness of a territorially extended Prussia threatened from three directions was enhanced by internal disjointedness. 116 Ibid., 734–735. 117 Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 139–140. 118 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 740–741. 119 Ibid., 721. 120 Pröhl, Die Bedeutung, 174–175. 121 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 744–748. A report from that mission is contained in Müffling memoirs; K. von Müffling, Aus meinem Leben, 2nd Ed. (Berlin, 1855), 253–338.

Chapter 2

Prussia’s Internal Situation and Problems Organising Its Armed Forces after 1815 In May 1996, shortly after the reunification of Germany, the inhabitants of Berlin and Brandenburg were able to decide in a referendum on the merger of the two administrative areas into a new Land, Prussia. This would constitute a symbolic annulment of the Allied Council decree of the 25th of February 1947, abolishing that very state because it was perceived as responsible for the escalation of militarism. Such a view of Prussia was not new. Already in the 18th century it was said that the Hohenzollern monarchy had only three estates: infantry, cavalry, and artillery. This was indeed one of the reasons why the proposal was rejected in the referendum. Commenting in Die Welt, Berthold Seewald pointed to yet another aspect of the whole matter by calling the no-­ longer-existing state ‘the most extraordinary experiment in history’.1 Brandenburg and Berlin were not only just parts of the former Kingdom of Prussia, they were not even its most important part. It would be hard to call them the cradle of Prussia. The Prussian heritage had much more extensive roots, reaching Westphalia, for instance. The observations of the German journalist interestingly illustrates the problem with Prussian identity. It was associated not so much with specific territory as with an ethos and the institutions symbolising it, headed by the king. ‘Travailler pour le roi de Prusse’ was in a sense the epitome of the Prussian identity. It was this idea that had for years connected the remote East Prussia with the March, and later it made possible the assimilation of territories acquired after 1815. Prussia’s internal situation after the end of the Napoleonic wars was determined by two main factors. A basic problem was how to integrate the monarchy into its new territorial form. Pertz and Delbrück described Prussia in that period as a Zufalls-Staat.2 Its territory not only extended and disconnected, was diverse in cultural, social, economic, and national respects. In 1815, it comprised two blocks of provinces separated from each other, covering a total area of 278,042 square kilometres with 10.4 million inhabitants. According to v­ arious estimates, 5.5 million, i.e., over half of the total population, were new subjects 1 B. Seewald, Warum nicht Preußen?, „Die Welt“, 24.03.1996; https://www.welt.de/print-welt/ article647639/Warum-nicht-Preussen.html (access: 23/04/2020). 2 Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 5, 13.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���� | doi:10.1163/9789004438439_004

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of the Hohenzollerns, including many Slavs.3 The country was administratively divided into ten provinces, those of Prussia, West Prussia, Brandenburg, Pomerania, Silesia, Posen, Saxony, Westphalia, Jülich-Cleves-Berg, and the Grand Duchy of the Lower Rhine.4 In 1822 and 1824, this administrative structure changed when Jülich-Cleves-Berg and the Grand Duchy of the Lower Rhine were united into the Rhineland Province and Prussia and West Prussia were united into the Province of Prussia.5 The western and eastern provinces did not have much in common with each other, not only because of their geographic location. Subjected to French influences for years, the Rhineland and Westphalia were completely different than the still feudal territories in the east. This particularly concerned social relations. Prussian administrative offices seemed anachronistic to Rhineland residents. The influence of French law created a need to treat it differently. The local population, though initially favourable to Prussian rule, was accustomed to civic freedoms, which after the fall of the state’s reformist trend caused problems.6 While their role as the centre of the German industrial revolution was still a matter for the future, in economic terms the western provinces stood out from the rest of the country. Finally, the question of loyalty to the Prussian crown by a population that was predominantly Roman Catholic presented a problem.7 Considering these factors, the situation looked doubtful. Such opinions, for instance, were expressed by the Lt Col. Samuel F. Seydel of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps, who in a letter, dated on the 31st of May 1817, stated that the inhabitants of the Rhineland were ‘not much better than the Poles’.8 Residing in Koblenz in the years 1816–1819, Gen. Karl Georg Ernst von Hake expressed doubts as to whether it was possible to guarantee the participation of the local population in the defence of the major provincial cities in the event of an invasion.9 The establishment of Prussian military institutions was met with strong resistance in ­Westphalia. The Prussian commander stationed there, Johann von Thielmann, who was not pleased with having to leave the army of his homeland of Saxony, encountered difficulties in finding enough recruits to form required regiments. It was problematic to persuade former Westphalian officers and local m ­ embers 3 Steckhan, Preußen, 3–4. 4 J. Wąsicki, Związek Niemiecki i państwa niemieckie 1815–1848 (Posen, 1986), 223–224. 5 Ibid., 240–241; Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 85–86. 6 Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 97–101; Wąsicki, Związek Niemiecki, 228–230, 329. 7 Clark, Iron Kingdom, 367–376; Wąsicki, Związek Niemiecki, 226. 8 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Seydel, Oberstleutnant im Ingenieurkorps: Ideen über einen Feldzug der Russen gegen Preußen beiderseitig ohne Alliierte, Posen, 31st May 1817, 51. 9 Ibid., No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 26th November 1817, 29.

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of the nobility to serve. Even the provision of horses for the cavalry regiments posed a challenge, as the implementation of Boyen’s directives further aggravated anti-Prussian sentiments in the province.10 The Polish population, concentrated primarily in the Grand Duchy of Posen, was treated with particular suspicion by Prussian political elites. Although, in comparison with 1800, their representation among Prussian subjects had fallen from 38 to 15 per cent, they nevertheless remained the major national minority. Former Polish lands accounted for one fifth of the Kingdom of Prussia territories.11 Greater Poland represented a strong centre of Polish nationhood. The most anti-Polish stance among Prussian officers was held by Grolman, the author of comprehensive proposals for the Germanization of Greater Poland territories.12 Still in his mind were memories of the Polish uprisings in 1794 and 1806,13 which, particularly the latter, indicated the possible behaviour of Poles in the event of an invasion.14 Such an invasion seemed possible due to the immediate vicinity of the Kingdom of Poland.15 The official king of Poland was Tsar Alexander, who with that title could intervene in the internal affairs of Prussia.16 This would be consistent with Polish aspirations to unite all lands inhabited by Poles into one state. The danger was acknowledged by the Minster of War Boyen, who in February 1815 presented the proposal of a Prussian peace-keeping army in the Grand Duchy of Posen, initially without a separate General Command (Generalkommando). Excluded from this territory would 10

H. von Pettersdorf, General Johann Adolph Freiherr von Thielmann. Ein Charakterbild aus der napoleonischen Zeit (Leipzig, 1894), 308–309. 11 Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 101. 12 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3: Von 1815 bis 1843, 24–27; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 9v-11. 13 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 11. The Uprising of 1794 or the Kościuszko Uprising was a failed attempt to liberate the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth from Russian influence after the Second Partition of Poland in 1793. Its part was a military insurrection in Greater Poland led by General Jan Henryk Dąbrowski against Kingdom of Prussia which had taken possession of this territory after the Second Partition. After the failure of the Kościuszko Uprising, due the Third Partition of Poland (1795) the country ceased to exist for 123 years. The second uprising in Greater Poland was also organized by Dąbrowski to help French forces under Napoleon in liberating Poland from Prussian occupation in 1806. The Greater Poland Uprising was a decisive factor that allowed the formation in 1807 of the Duchy of Warsaw with inclusion of Greater Poland. 14 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Abschrift: An Boyen, with Boyen’s annotation of 23rd July 1816 [?], July 1816 [?], 38. 15 Ibid., Seydel: Ideen über einen Feldzug, 47–48. 16 Laubert, ‘Die Berichte des Majors von Royer-Luehnes über die Posen und Polen 1816/1817’, Laubert, Studien zur Geschichte der Provinz Posen in der ersten Hälfte des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts (Posen, 1908), 97–100.

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be the so-called Netzedistrikt because of numerous German colonists, and together with Pomerania and Neumark was put under V Generalkommando. Following this project, Silesia was put together with Greater Poland under iv Generalkommando. Only the last of these arrangements was initially accepted, but on the intervention of Chancellor Hardenberg, who feared the reaction of the Poles,17 yet this would soon be modified. In accordance with a Royal Decree of the 14th of May 1815, Lt Gen. Heinrich von Thümen took command as provisional Kommandierender General on the 24th of May of territories ceded to Prussia in the Departments of Bromberg, Posen, and part of the Kalisch (Kalisz) region.18 Assigning this title to Thümen effectively meant a departure from Boyen’s concept. Thümen was originally supposed to have only commanded a brigade in Posen subordinate to the Generalkommando of Silesia and Posen.19 The decision was explained as a desire to establish better relations with the local population, a mission now undertaken by a new commander.20 However, the real reason behind the decision was probably the nervous atmosphere surrounding the delineation of the border between Prussia and the Kingdom of Poland. To the end of the existence of the Posen Generalkommando, one division was always recruited in Silesia and commanded from Glogau(Głogów), the purpose of which was to disperse Polish nationals in the local regiments.21 The fears of Prussian officers were replete with stereotypes and sometimes even bordering on paranoia. In May 1815, Boyen already received from an officer called Tresckow,22 serving in the Prussia Generalkommando,23 a letter 17 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 84. 18 Befehl, sich in den Besitz der neuerworbenen Teile Polens zu setzen, 1. Kommandierender General in Posen ad interim, is mentioned in Thümen’s biography; ‘Heinrich Ludwig August von Thümen’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3 (Hamburg, 1937), 444. Its content was published in ‘Königlicher Befehl an den Generalleutnant Thümen’, H. Sommer, ‘Das Generalkomanndo in Posen von 1815–1918’, Deutsche Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift für Polen (hereafter dwzp) 19 (1930), appendix 1, 102–103. 19 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 85. 20 ‘Heinrich Ludwig August von Thümen’, 447–449. 21 Laubert, Die Verwaltung, 97. 22 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, v. Tresckow: Ansichten über die Verteidigung der Grenzen von Litauen, Ost- und Westpreußen bei einem etwaigen Ausbruch von Unruhen in Polen, Königsberg, May 1815, 3–9. 23 The lack of an initial hinders identifying the author of the letter. Rothe suggests it could be a Posen landowner called Sigmund Otto Joseph von Treskow (1756–1825) or Major General Karl Alexander von Treskow (1764–1823). Analysis of the text clearly indicates that the author served in the Prussian army. In the discussed period, there were two officers with that surname holding important posts in the Generalkommando Preussen, the one mentioned by Rothe and Ernst Christian Albert von Tresckow, (1760–1831), both major

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wherein he expressed conviction of an imminent Polish insurrection directed from the Kingdom of Poland and suggested a series of measures against it. The most spectacular manifestation of Prussian oversensitivity was the unjustified alarm raised by Thümen in May 1816, in consequence of which the entire province put under state of siege.24 The army and military police appeared on the streets of Posen, and in hours following artillery arrived. On the 2nd of May 1816, on the instructions of Thümen, War Commissioner Holdergger presented to civilian authorities a demand to provide Kommandierender General (KG) with supplies of 40-day iron rations. From available information it transpired that Thümen was expecting an attack of unspecified enemy troops in Posen and surround areas. The disoriented civilian authorities quickly ordered an investigation. It apparently had resulted from the misinterpretation of an overheard conversation between two Polish recruits. The matter was reported to Capt. Glummer, who had misinterpreted the sentence ‘On 1st May we’re going to the Prussians’ as ‘Den I-en May gehen wir auf die Preussen’. He interpreted the statement to suggest an armed pro-independence attack on the Prussians, whereas the Polish recruits were simply stating that they were going to join the ranks of the Prussian Landwehr (‘Den I-en May gehen wir zu den Preussen’). The whole matter was duly passed on to kg, which ordered the described actions.25 This over-reaction was not a misfeasance but did expose the restored Prussian authorities to ridicule. The reasons behind the whole confusion were covered up and presented as routine military exercises. These events were many manifestations of stereotypically attributing to Poles a desire for rebellion and insurrection. Major Camille von Royer-Luehnes, assigned to assist the Duke-Governor of the Grand Duchy of Posen Prince Antoni Radziwiłł,26 reported in the

24

25 26

g­ enerals. At the time, the former commanded a brigade in Prussia and the latter was the chief of staff for the commandant of Königsberg, then from November 1815 an inspector of the Landwehr in Prussia, and also temporarily, after the death of General Friedrich Bülow von Dennewitz, the acting commander of armed forces in the province; Hermann von Boyen, 75, footnote No. 2; ‘Karl Alexander Wilhelm von Tresckow’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3, 486; ‘Ernst Christian Albert von Tresckow’, ibid., 494–495. The whole matter was described in detail by Manfred Laubert, ‘Eine Alarmierung der Posener Garnison im Jahr 1816’, Historische Monatsblätter für die Provinz Posen (hereafter hmpp) 6 (1904), 88–92. The materials he used have survived and are now at State Archive in Posen (Archiwum Państwowe w Poznaniu, hereinafter SA in Posen). SA in Posen, Naczelne Prezydium w Poznaniu (High Presidium of the Province of Posen, hereafter HPPP), ref. No. 591, Report of Zerboni di Sposetti to Hardenberg, Posen, 12th May 1816, 18–21. Prince Antoni Henryk Radziwiłł (1775–1833) – Polish and Prussian noble, musician and politician. Between 1815 and 1831 he acted as Duke-Governor of the Grand Duchy of Posen. His brother Michał Gedeon Radziwiłł was the second Dictator of Polish November Uprising. Shortly after outbreak of the Uprising Prince Antoni Radziwiłł was deprived of

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years 1816–1817 that throughout the province there was a reluctance towards Prussians and a persistent adoration of the defeated French Emperor. Since the army occupied such an important place in the Polish national character, Royer-Luehnes believed it was possible for the Poles to rise up again, as they had done in 1806.27 According to his reports, a similar mood prevailed in the Kingdom of Poland.28 Likewise Major General Ludwig Gustav von Thile I, when he visited the Kingdom of Poland in 1819, noted that the Poles keenly observed the internal situation in Austria and the location of fortresses in Galicia and Hungary, which in keeping with their ‘restive character’, as he put it, was interpreted as a harbinger of war, apparently also counting upon Alexander i to gradually fulfil their territorial demands.29 The Prussian side could not compete with the attractiveness of the Russian tsar’s promises, though of course some concessions in the years 1815–1830 were made to win over the Poles. In accordance with the guidelines to article 1 of the Final Act of the Congress of Vienna, it was necessary to respect Polish national tradition in the Grand Duchy of Posen,30 understandable since Poles constituted 60 percent of the population.31 A consequences of this was the appointment of Prince Antoni Radziwiłł as Duke-Governor of the Grand Duchy.32 It was announced that a quasi-national armed forces would be formed, commanded by a distinguished Polish officer. Although many veterans from Napoleon’s army had settled in the province, including the emperor’s former adjutant Dezydery Chłapowski, these plans never came to fruition. According to Manfred Laubert, who was unfavourably disposed towards Poles, universal military service posed revulsion from the population of the Grand Duchy of Posen.33 The situation, however, was complicated. While the creation of a ­national Polish armed forces was declared in April 1815, in subsequent months Frederick William iii ordered the unification of the Greater Poland military organisation with the rest of the Prussian state.34 In February 1816, the all powers. Next year the office of Duke-Governor was abolished, and the autonomy of the Grand Duchy was cancelled. The rule in the province passed to Oberpräsident Eduard Heinrich von Flottwell. 27 Laubert, ‘Die Berichte’, 84–86, 90–91. 28 Ibid., 97–100. 29 GStA pk, vi. ha, vi ha, Boyen, No. 2, Thile I to Boyen, Warsaw, 26th September 1819, 11v. 30 Wąsicki, Ziemie polskie pod zaborem pruskim. Wielkie Księstwo Poznańskie 1815–1848. Studium historycznoprawne (Warsaw-Posen, 1980), 58–63. 31 Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 102. 32 Laubert, Die Verwaltung, 31–42; Wąsicki, Ziemie polskie, 64. 33 Laubert, Die Verwaltung, 92–93. 34 J. Boysen, Preußische Armee und die polnische Minderheit. Royalistische Streitkräfte im Kontext der Nationalitätenfrage des 19 Jahrhunderts (1815–1914) (Marburg, 2008), 14–15.

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i­ ntroduction of Prussian military legislation was announced,35 which after deliberations about its form became law in December of that year.36 To accustom Poles to the new order, Posen inhabitants were temporarily relieved from the costs of maintaining a standing army, although they were obliged to provide for the upkeep of 6,400 infantry and 960 cavalry, as well as two Landwehr regiments.37 The cavalry regiments were to be units of a national character, a measure supposed to attract Polish nobility to serve the Hohenzollern state.38 These plans, however, failed completely. None of the units acquired any number of Polish officers. Radziwiłł’s idea to promote military service by employing a well-known Polish commander was similarly unsuccessful.39 This role was provided by a veteran of the Polish Legions and the Duchy of Warsaw campaign, Antoni Amilkar Rawicz-Kosiński,40 who entered the service of Frederick William iii on the 17th of January 1817.41 The recruitment of this exceptionally colourful character, of a difficult and quarrelsome nature, did not yield benefits to the Prussians. In accordance with Boyen’s intentions, stated on the 7th of May 1818, Frederick William iii appointment of Kosiński as the inspector of the Landwehr in the province was to win the Poles over to this institution.42 This, however, turned out to be impossible. Kosiński considered the institution of the Landwehr as contrary to the commitment of Frederick William 35

36 37 38 39 40

41 42

‘Obwieszczenie tyczące się utworzenia siły zbrojnej krajowej W.X. poznańskiem z dnia 19 Lutego 1816’, Zbiór korespondencji J. Amilkara Kosińskiego z lat 1815–1820 tyczącej się formacji siły zbrojnej narodowej w W. Księstwie Poznańskiem oraz stosunku W. Księstwa do monarchii pruskiej (Posen, 1861), 13–25. SA in Posen, HPPP, ref. No. 591, Hardenberg to Zerboni di Sposetti, Berlin, 8th March 1816, 25–26; ibid., Boyen to Hardenberg (copy), Berlin, 26th May 1816, 28–29. ‘Obwieszczenie tyczące’, 15–16. Laubert, ‘Die Errichtung einer Posener Nationalkavallerie nach 1815’, Die Ostmark, 7 (1921), 72–73. Laubert, ‘Die Berichte’, 87–88. Antoni Amilkar Rawicz-Kosiński (1760–1823) – was a natable Polish general during the Revolutionary wars. He served in the French army in Italy since 1795, later as a colonel was an adjutant and chief of the general staff of the Polish Legions formed under General Dąbrowski in 1797. Exiled with the Legions to Santo Domingo, but retired as a Brigadier General in 1802 and returned to Poland in 1803. From 1806 to 1808 he fought again under Dąbrowski against Prussia. In 1809 he was governor of Warsaw. Retired from the Army of Duchy of Warsaw in 1811 as division general, he was once again from July to December 1812 the commander of the Reserve Division at the Bug Line; ‘Hamilkar von Rawicz-Kosinski’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 260–261. ‘Schreiben des Kriegsministers v. Boyen an den Divisions-General v. Kosinski vom 16. Jan. 1817’, Zbiór korespondencji, 56–57. Laubert, ‘Die Anstellung des Generals von Kosinski in der preußischen Armee 1817’, hmpp 12 (1904), 194.

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iii to create armed forces in Greater Poland of a distinctly national character.43 In spite of long negotiations, on the 25th of October 1820, the general, at his own request, was relieved of his duties.44 Laubert placed the blame for the failure on Kosiński, who had supposedly been deceptive in turning down successive positions offered him and making unrealistic financial demands.45 The process was of course differently presented by the Polish side, who considered the Prussian offers as using Kosiński as an instrument for the purposes of Berlin.46 This was to be the only Prussian attempt to recruit a high-ranking Polish officer.47 The Prussian monarch did not support entrusting important military posts to Poles.48 It is hardly surprising that Greater Poland elites were unresponsive to Prussian military recruitment incentives. The sons of nobles preferred to purchase property in the Kingdom of Poland49 in order to enter the Polish army as ordinary soldiers than serve as officers in the Hohenzollern army.50 This state of affairs remained unchanged until the 1830s.51 This interfered with Boyen’s idea of nurturing patriotism through military service in defence of the country. In view of the failure of all attempts, the Prussian government response, still relatively mild, was to attempt to assimilate and Germanize the population in Greater Poland. Initially, Prussians had also to consider potential problems in the conquered territories of Saxony. Hostility of the local population against Prussia was already apparent in 1815, when some Saxon troops revolted against being

43

‘List Jenerała Amilkara Kosińskiego do pruskiego ministra wojny, z prośbą o przedstawienie go do dymissyi z wojska pruskiego’, Zbiór korespondencji, 117–119. 44 Laubert, ‘Die Anstellung’, 197–198; Laubert, ‘Generalleutnant von Kosinski in preußischen Diensten’, hmpp 6 (1913), 93. 45 ‘Congé accordé par S.M. le Roi au G. Kosiński le 25. Oct. 1820’, Zbiór korespondencji, 152–153; cf. Laubert, ‘Die Berichte’, 96–97; Laubert, ‘Die Anstellung’, 191–201; Laubert, ‘Generalleutnant’, 93. 46 Zbiór korespondencji, ii–xii. 47 Although several other distinguished generals were seemingly friendly to Prussia; Laubert, ‘Die Berichte’, 86. 48 D. Bangert, ‘Polnischer Adel-österreichisches und preußisches Heer. Das Verhältnis des polnischen Adels zur k. k. Armee und zur kgl. Preußischen Armee 1816–1914’, Zeitschrift für Ostforschung. Länder und Völker im östlichen Mitteleuropa 1 (1972), 503–504. 49 Laubert, ‘Die Berichte’, 97–100. 50 Laubert, Die Verwaltung, 94–97. Cf. D. Bangert, ‘Polnischer Adel’, 501–504, 506; Boysen, ‘Faktoren der Integration bzw. Abstinenz polnischer Adliger und Nichtadliger gegenüber dem Preußischen Heer nach 1815’, Militär und Gesellschaft in der frühen Neuzeit 1 (2013), 65–84. 51 Laubert, ‘Ein Bericht des kommandierenden Generals von Roeder von 1827’, hmpp 4 (1913), 50–54.

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i­ ncluded in the Hohenzollern army.52 Although Saxon officers, notably Johann von Thielmann and Ernst von Aster,53 joined the Prussian army, for some it resulted in a sense of alienation from their roots.54 Their decision were harshly judged by their fellow countrymen.55 Saxon administrators manifested a strong opposition to the Prussian takeover of official documents.56 Although after the ‘Duchy of Saxony’ was placed under Hohenzollern rule there was no real resistance, although occasional sporadic expressions of disapproval dis appear.57 The attractiveness of service in the Prussian administration and army, as well as decrees beneficial to the inhabitants of these territories, did gradually assimilate the Saxon population.58 Integration problems continued to occur in the annexed territories of Swedish Pomerania.59 In all three regions of key importance in terms of defence, there existed potential problems regarding how the local population would behave in the event of a war. Prussia could hardly talk of itself as a multinational state. The periodization of Prussian history depends on when the collapse of its reformist trend is dated. Friedrich Meinecke consistently pointed to the year 1819 when Boyen and Grolman resigned, and states that it was the turning point for the whole of Germany’s 19th-century history.60 Although it is difficult to put a precise date to such a complex process, in the years 1819–1821, due to diplomatic pressure from Russia and Austria, the reform movement collapsed as key advocates of change were forced to step down; the struggle can be said to have symbolically ended with the death of Hardenberg in 1822. Regardless of periodization, the clash between reformists and conservatives had taken place on practically every level of political life and in the ranks of the army. Eric Dorn Brose notes that the ‘liberal’ camp in the army was diverse but could basically be divided into four groups. The first group comprised so-called court liberals, persons close to Frederick William iii and known for their reformist ­sentiments. 52

P. Hofschröer, 1815: The Waterloo Campaign–The German Victory (London, 2006), 34–39; ‘Karl Leopold Heinrich Ludwig von Borstell’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3, 383–390; Wąsicki, Ziemie polskie, 37. 53 Pettersdorf, Thielmann, 286–287. 54 Ibid., 314–315; Kurzer Lebens-Abriss des weil. königlich preussischen Generals Ernst Ludwig von Aster: nach Aufsätzen, Briefen, Aufzeichnungen etc. des Generals; nebst einem Anhang, bestehend aus drei in neuerer Zeit von E.L. v. Aster verfassten Aufsätzen politischen Inhalts (Berlin, 1878), 70. 55 Pettersdorf, Thielmann, iv–v, 324–325. 56 Wąsicki, Ziemie polskie, 37. 57 W. Czapliński, A. Galos, W. Korta, Historia Niemiec (Wrocław, 2010), 419. 58 Wąsicki, Związek Niemiecki, 222–223; Wąsicki, Ziemie polskie, 38. 59 Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 104–106. 60 Meinecke, Erlebtes 1862–1901 (Leipzig, 1941), 208.

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These included Prince Augustus, the General Inspector of the Artillery and cousin of the monarch; the royal brother William; the monarch’s childhood friend Oldwig von Natzmer; and most importantly Job von Witzleben.61 Their positions enabled them to influence the king, but hindered them from expressing their views openly.62 Thus, because of individual statements both Prince Augustus63 and Witzleben are sometimes perceived incorrectly to have been members of the conservative camp.64 The second group was the so-called Wallenstein camp, i.e., persons connected with Gneisenau. It’s most important members were Carl von Clausewitz and the well-connected young officer Karl von der Groeben. A characteristic feature of this group was the cult of the deceased Gerhard von Scharnhorst, whose successor was meant to be Gneisenau.65 He was regarded to be the head of the ‘Jacobin’ in the army, associated with freemasonry, and was seen as prepared to seize power and form a dictatorship with the support of revolutionised young officers.66 The figure of Gneisenau aroused the greatest concern among conservatives, which resulted in him being side-lined in 1816. According Gerhard Ritter, Gneisenau was neither a supporter nor an opponent of a revolutionary programme, but did appreciate the potential of mobilising the forces of the whole nation to ensure independence of the Prussian state. In his opinion, the interests of monarchs destroyed the fighting spirit of the nation, the revival of which required the creation of a civic state. The solution would be the creation of a national constitution, which would guarantee equality 61 Brose, The Politics, 73–74. 62 Ibid., 80. 63 The princes’ military legacy clearly shows that he had good contacts with most of the most important figures in the military establishment; cf. GStA pk, bph, Rep. 57 iii, No. 140, Über die Einrichtungen der Preußischen Landwehr vom Jahre 1815 und 1816. Clausewitz; ibid., No. 142, Über das Landwehr-System, von General von Müffling; ibid., No. 181, Operations-Plan die Russen gegen die Türken nach dem jetzigen Standpunkte der Kriegführung, Ende 1821, bearbeitet vom General-Lieutnant von Müffling; ibid., No. 186, Versuch eines Vertheidigungs-Plans gegen die Rheienprovinzen, vom Generalleutnant von Boyen; ibid., No. 187, Über die Vertheidigung der Lander am rechten Ufer der Elbe bis zur Mamel, vom General-Major v. Grolman; ibid., No. 190, Bemerkungen über die Vertheidigung der rheinlandische und westfalische Provinzen, vom General-Major v. Pfuel; ibid., No. 226, Über die von dem General-Kommando von Preussen für unerwartete Falle zu treffenden Anordnungen, vom General Borstell. 64 D. Schmidt, Die preußische Landwehr. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der allgemeinen Wehrpflicht in Preussen zwischen 1813 und 1830 (Berlin, 1981), 137, 141–142; E. Trox, Militärischer Konservatismus. Kriegsvereine und `Militärpartei` in Preußen zwischen 1815 und 1848/49 (Stuttgart, 1990), 102–103. 65 Brose, The Politics, 75. 66 Ibid., 92–93; Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 115–120, 141, 346–347, footnote 25 on 120.

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and civil liberties,67 views during the Restoration period considered to be subversive. The next liberal group was the ‘triumvirate’.68 It included Minister of War Hermann von Boyen, director of the 2nd Department of the Ministry of War Karl von Grolman, and, later, Chief of General Staff Wilhelm von Krauseneck.69 The term ‘triumvirate’ actually refered to the 1840s, but in the 1815–30 period it already formed a close conjunction. Grolman was the most radical figure in the liberal camp, who allegedly wanted to create out of Prussia ‘a Spartan republic on the Spree’.70 Despite his anti-monarchist opinions and attachment to Boyen, he was highly regarded by the king as a professional. Although Boyen was less radical in his views, the two men shared the common idea of rebuilding Prussia as a modern and centralised constitutional monarchy following the British model. Boyen considered the patriotic education of citizens to be fundamental to the rebuilding of the state, and was committed to this task being entrusted to the Landwehr.71 The fourth and least united group of liberals were the so-called ‘Teutonic Jacobins’.72 Brose has included officers associated with the Gneisenau camp in it, though not within its innermost circle. Among those mentioned are Johann August Rühle von Lilienstern, Georg Wilhelm von Valentini, Ernst von Pfuel, and Karl von Müffling. The structure of this group appears rather artificial. The social and political views of Valentini, especially after 1815, were overtly conservative.73 Rühle remained strongly under the influence of the conservative philosophy of Adam Müller.74 Disagreements between Müffling and Gneisenau are widely known through their correspondence.75 In his published memoirs, Müffling refers to his former superior critically.76 As Ritter has noted, the future 67 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 98–101; Cf. Wacker, Die Alliierte, 124–129. 68 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 1: 1771 bis 1814, 392–393. 69 Brose, The Politics, 75–77. 70 H.A. von Brandt, Aus dem Leben des Generals der Infanterie Dr Heinrich von Brandt, ed. H. von Brandt, part 2: Leben in Berlin. Aufstand in Polen, Sendung nach Frankreich 1828–1833 (Berlin, 1869), 40–41; A. Vagts, A History of Militarism. Romance and Realities of a Profession (New York, 1937),143. 71 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 134–141. 72 Brose, The Politics, 77–78. 73 R. Poll, Georg Wilhelm von Valentini: 1775–1834: ein preussischer General, Militärschriftsteller und Diplomat, PhD thesis, Westfalischen Wilhelm-Universität in Münster, 1972., 178–180. See Chapter 12. 74 G. Koehler, Über das Verhältnis von Rühle von Liliensterns Buch „Vom Kriege“ zu Adam Heinrich Müllers „Elemente der Staatskunst“, PhD thesis, Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität zu Berlin 1919, Göttingen, 1922; Sauzin, Rühle von Lilienstern. See Chapter 10. 75 Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 5, 84–90, 97–98. 76 Müffling, Aus meinem, 2nd Ed., 29–30, 50, 81–82, 128–129, 142–144, 194–196.

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Chief of the General Staff of the Army was among those appalled by the lack of a knightly ethos and by nationalistic excesses of young Prussian officers during the occupation of French territories.77 Nevertheless, during the Wars of Liberation and immediately after, he was considered close to the reformists’ camp.78 Either his views had evolved or were simply conformism. In the summer of 1825, Müffling was a frequent guest of Duke Charles of Mecklenburg at Monbijou Palace, which according to Treitschke could be treated as symbolic of his ‘conversion’ (or betrayal) and rejection of liberal ideals.79 The views expressed by Müffling in a work from this period seem to justify this appraisal.80 Although in the 1820s as Chief of the Prussian General Staff he expressed reformist opinions.81 The opposite side within the armed forces is usually referred to as the conservative camp or, to use Clausewitz’s term, ‘the men of 1806’ (Männer von 1806).82 The person most widely regarded as leader of the faction opposed to  Boyen and reforms was Duke Charles of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, a royal ­brother-in-law and Commandant of the Royal Guard and Grenadiers Corps. Although, for this reason, he is frequently presented negatively, testimonies of his contemporaries are positive. Heinrich von Brandt described the duke as the most talented and industrious officer in the army, who nevertheless did not enjoy widespread popularity in the army or society alike. The situation was quite different in units under his command. Brandt believed that overt efforts to turn the Guard into a ‘praetorian’ unit protecting the monarch was the primary reason why the duke’s considerable competence was never appreciated.83 The king’s younger son, William, was also an important figure in the conservative circle.84 A leader of the conservatives in the army was the king’s adjutant, Lt Gen. Karl Friedrich von Knesebeck, known for his opposition to the actions of Scharnhorst. The faction also included the Minister of War in the years 1820–1834, Karl Ernst von Hake, and the Chief of the Engineers and ­Pioneers Corps and General Inspector of Fortess (Chef des Ingenieur- und 77 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 118–120. 78 Langendorf, ‘Der Krieg als schöne Kunst betrachtet’, Rühle von Lilienstern, Reise mit der Armee im Jahre 1809, ed. J.-J. Langendorf (Vienna, 1986), 244–246; E. Weniger, Goethe und die Generale (Leipzig, 1942), 63–83. 79 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 363. 80 C. v. W. [Müffling], Betrachtungen über die Großem Operationen und Schlachten der Feldzüge von 1813 und 1814 (Berlin und Posen, 1825), 141–143. 81 Dehio, ‘Wittgenstein und das letzte Jahrzehnt Friedrich Wilhelms iii’, Forschungen zur Brandenburgischen und Preußischen Geschichte 35 (1923), 215–220. 82 ‘An Graf Groeben 1818 und 1819’, Clausewitz, Verstreute, 259–264. 83 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 44–46. 84 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 203–209.

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P­ ionierkorps und Generalinspekteur der Festungen) in the years 1816–1837, Gustav von Rauch, though he had good relations with the liberals.85 The ‘reactionary’ camp could boast the influence of kg Generals of the Infantry Friedrich Kleist von Nollendorf and Friedrich Bülow von Dennewitz, as well as Zieten. These model Junker officers were of the old Frederickian school. For them, war was about chivalry, to carry on an ethos and defend the throne and social order. Hence, Boyen’s ‘experiments’ were acceptable to them only insofar as they served the higher cause of defeating Napoleon, and once that threat was overcome the Prussian army should return to its previous state, without engaging in politics and reforms of the country. These generals felt particular disdain for the excesses of officers from liberal circle during the occupation of France.86 This stance was similar to that of Müffling, who moved closer to the conservatives in the 1820s. After 1819, conservatives occupied most of the key posts in the army. Duke Charles was president of the Council of State from 1825. The fundamental aim of this faction was the restitution of the Prussian ‘military monarchy’, modelled on the state of Frederick the Great.87 This required reestablishing the aristocratic character of the officer corps, eliminating the separateness of the Landwehr, and restoring an army unity based on loyalty to the monarch that would counter all revolutionary tendencies.88 According to Ritter, after 1815 organisation of the armed forces become a leading issue of internal politics only in Prussia.89 Gneisenau and Boyen wanted an army that was truly national (Volksarmee), with the actual state of the army far from what they desired. Conscripted citizens were merely a supplement to the professional, Frederickian core. This duality created problems both during and after the Wars of Liberation. A chief element of contention in internal politics of the 1815–1819 period became the Wehrgesetz (defence law) of the 3rd of September 1814.90 It introduced categories of military service: the 85 Brose, The Politics, 76; Trox, Militärischer Konservatismus, 100–102. 86 Geschichte des Geschlechts von Kleist, ed. G. von Kleist, part 3: Das Leben des Generalfeldmarschalls Grafen Kleist von Nollendorf (Berlin, 1887), 151–153; K.A. Varnhagen von Ense, Leben des Generals Grafen Bülow von Dennewitz (Berlin, 1853), 434–436; Wacker, Die Alliierte, 126–127, 228–229. 87 Büsch, Militärsystem, 1–7, 79–99; M. Messerschmidt, Militärgeschichte im 19. Jahrhundert (1814–1890), part 1: Die politische Geschichte der preußisch-deutschen Armee (Frankfurt am Main, 1975), 287–290, 297–314; Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 34–49; Trox, Militärischer Konservatismus, 35–40. 88 Höhn, Verfassungskampf, 221–238; Trox, Militärischer Konservatismus, 64–78; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 193–203, 326–331. 89 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 125. 90 ‘Gesetz über die Verpflichtung zum Kriegsdienste. Vom 3sten September 1814’, GesetzSammlung (Berlin, 1814), 79–82.

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standing army, the first conscription Landwehr, the second conscription Landwehr, and the Landsturm. A supplement to these provisions, the Landwehrordnung of the 21st of November 1815, introduced the separation of the Landwehr organisation.91 Landwehr soldiers only joined their units in the case of war or during 14-day annual exercises. The number of peacetime standing army troops declined in the years 1815–1819 from approximately 140,000 to 122,000.92 According to calculations made in 1817, the estimated number of soldiers, including the first conscription Landwehr, was almost 300,000, which placed Prussia among the first rank of military powers.93 The formations would only be united in the event of war. This created the obvious problem of organisational cohesion. It was one of Boyen’s political goals to create out of the Landwehr a citizens’ army in the sense of a standing army.94 The Duke of Mecklenburg constantly campaigned for changing the system of raising troops. The need for change was exemplified by the problems of the Landwehr, primarily the shortage of officers and poor training. Reports from the annual exercises pointed to a weak combat strength.95 Prussia was also suffering from a financial crisis, a consequence of which were plans to considerably reduce the size of the army.96 The first phase of this process,97 which coincided with Boyen’s resignation, took place in 1817. In April the Finance Minister Hans von Bülow proposed a reduction of peacetime troops to 85,000 men, which was met with the approval of the duke, who was seeking to strengthen the position of his party in the army.98 In connection with this campaign, critical memoranda were issued by generals Friedrich von Tauentzien and Kleist von Nollendorf.99 Boyen responded with a memorandum sent to the king in May 1817, known from Max Lehmann’s edition,100 in which he c­ ompared 91 92

‘Landwehr-Ordnung. Vom 21sten November 1815’, Gesetz-Sammlung (Berlin, 1816), 77–90. In 1816 – 138, 344, 1817 – 138, 966, 1818 – 128, 067, 1819 – 122, 940; Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 148. 93 According to Jany, exactly 295, 964; ibid., 149; a somewhat higher number (298, 187) was assumed by Boyen; ‘Boyens Darstellung der Grundsätze der alten und der gegenwärtigen preußischen Kriegsverfassung’, ed. M. Lehmann, Historische Zeitung (hz) 67 (1891), 73. 94 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 116–125; H. Stübig, ‘Heer und Nation. Zum Entwicklung der pädagogisch-politischen Ideen Hermann von Boyen’, Militärgeschichtliches Mitteilungen (mgm) 58 (1999), 1–22. 95 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 70. 96 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 422. 97 On this subject also: D.E. Showalter, ‘The Prussian Landwehr and Its Critics, 1813–1819’, Central European History 1 (1971), 18–33. 98 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 357. 99 Ibid., 198–199; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 70. 100 ‘Boyens Darstellung’, 56–80; At least several sketches of this memorandum are found at GStA pk.

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the current organisation of the army with the system inherited from Frederick ii and adhered to by the conservative opposition. Boyen argued that the 1814 system was necessitated by both military and financial considerations. He argued that the post-revolutionary period required a different approach than in the times of the cabinet wars. Forces unleashed by the French Revolution caused such an increase in troops that to retain its position as a major power, Prussia had to accept the principle of a ‘nation under arms’.101 The maintainance of a large standing army was unaffordable for the Hohenzollern monarchy, which Boyen illustrated with detailed calculations.102 Military successes in the years 1813–1815 were an argument in favour of the Landwehr system,103 which Boyen had established and uncompromisingly defended. In late 1817, or at the start of 1818, a memorandum to the king was sent by Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. The content is known to us from a discussion of its authorship in Witzleben’s polemic with the duke.104 In the memorandum, the duke presented a comprehensive criticism of the reform programme, ranging from political issues to the organisation of the army.105 The attack was, of course, aimed at the Landwehr. The duke considered it to be a threat to Prussia’s internal peace. Armed masses detached from the standing army were, in his opinion, capable of fomenting rebellions. He saw the Landwehr as a rival to the army not controlled by the government.106 In his opinion, the government encouraged through this new institution an increased distrust of the standing army, especially among the young.107 He treated specific Landwehr barracks as potential sources for a degeneration of the ‘nation under arms’ conception.108 He proposed that the Landwehr should be disbanded and incorporated into the professional army.109 His estimates indicated that in peacetime there should be a standing army of men aged between 20 and 30, serving in a complicated system of half-year, one-year, and three-year term.110

101 102 103 104

Ibid., 62–63, 68–70. Ibid., 70–78. Ibid., 66–68. [‘Witzleben’s Memorandum, Berlin, 25th January 1818’], Dorow, Job von Witzleben, appendix A, 93–114; the authorship is confirmed by Treitschke; Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 2, 229, footnote *; In recent literature, the issues has been mentioned by Walter; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 327, footnote 9. 105 [‘Witzleben’s Memorandum, Berlin, 25th January 1818’], 100–102. 106 Ibid., 103. 107 Ibid., 104. 108 Ibid. 109 Ibid., 105–106. 110 Ibid., 111.

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Witzleben responded negatively on the 25th of January 1818. The idea that the king lacked control of the Landwehr was, in his opinion, quite wrong. It was as much a part of the armed forces as the permanent army, evidenced by the subordination of both to provincial commanders.111 The existence of universal military service was for him a prerequisite for state security, especially since, because of its location, Prussia was only able to fight defensive wars.112 Witzleben entirely rejected the duke’s ideas. He observed that although the organisation of the Landwehr needed to be perfected, it posed fewer problems than the standing army.113 On this occasion, Frederick William iii found Witzleben’s reasoning more convincing, probably due to the absurdity of some of the duke’s arguments. Meinecke sees the proposal of limiting the army to 85,000 soldiers as sacrificing the interests of the state for the sole purpose of strengthening the duke’s personal position.114 Despite the failure of his proposal, the duke continued his attack on the system.115 The internal problems of the Landwehr, especially the matter of poor training, increasingly aroused scepticism in the officer corps. A typical opinion was expressed by a Lt General, Ludwig von Borstell, in 1818. In his eyes, the ideal of the Landwehr from the Wars of Liberation could not be repeated in the future. The enthusiasm in the uprising against Napoleon was due to a specific moment in history and could not be expected to be awakened in a subsequent conflict. Borstell also believed that the role of the Landwehr in past conflicts was overrated, that it had been created out of urgency and that its real function was as an auxiliary force.116 Boyen’s idealism and dogmatism began gradually to work against his creation. He treated all criticism as a clash between old ‘Russian’ war school and the new spirit that had emerged in the years 1813–1815. The dispute for him was cultural, with supporters of coercion and military drilling on one side and proponents of a flexible civic army on the other.117 The king, however, was in favour of cutting costs and continued to support maximum organisational unification of the armed forces. The denouement came in 1819. Since the crisis of 1817, Boyen had considered steps to limit costs, e.g., by reducing the number of General Commands.118 None of his cost-cutting ideas, 111 Ibid., 103–104. 112 Ibid., 110–111. 113 Ibid., 113. 114 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 358–359. 115 Ibid., 360. 116 Bemerkungen über die preußische Militärverfassung in Bezug auf die Staatsverteidigung, not found, discussed by Meinecke; ibid., 203–204. 117 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 72–73. 118 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 383–384.

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however, concerned the Landwehr. Meanwhile, Frederick William iii had increasing doubts about the size of its formation. On the 22nd of March 1819, he issued an order to disband 34 Landwehr battalions, rearrange structural divisions, reduce the number of inspectorates, and, most importantly, make the Landwehr subordinate to the standing army.119 Boyen played for time, but he was losing the king’s trust as well as his influence in government. The beginning of the end came with the joint protest of Wilhelm von Humboldt and Carl Friedrich von Beyme against the signing of the Carlsbad protocol, which under the circumstances could not have made a good impression.120 The actions of the conservative faction led the king to issue on the 6th of December an order for the March decrees to be implemented without further delay. Boyen, convinced that the decrees undermined the entire essence of the system, issued on the 8th of December a reaction against the decision of Frederick William iii.121 In the same text, he handed in his resignation if the monarch chose to uphold the decrees. The matter was resolved on the 22nd of December, when a new Landwehrordnung implemented the monarch’s decrees.122 The most significant of the resolutions were those reducing the number of Landwehr brigades to 16 and subordinating them in peacetime to divisional commanders. Thus the foundations of Boyen’s system of the separation of the two military institutions fell. The king delayed accepting Boyen’s resignation, but on the 25th of December relieved him of his duties, although guaranteeing him a permanent salary. That same day Grolman handed in his resignation, allegedly for personal reasons, though obviously not a mere coincidence.123 Frederick William iii unwillingly accepted his resignation. By the end of the year the resignations of Humboldt and Beyme were also accepted. Boyen has been treated negatively, as evidence of his incurable idealism and inability to compromise. However, his decision was understandable to contemporaries considering Grolman’s resignation solidarity, which was treated as unexpected and ill-­ conceived by the monarch and many in the army.124 The dispute over the organisation of the army, closely connected with the state’s financial condition, was a key issue of Prussian domestic policy in the 1820s. Prince Augustus issued a call for the total liquidation of the Landwehr

119 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 74. 120 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 362–382; Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 2, 597. 121 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 382–389. 122 ‘Allerhöchste Kabinets-Order vom 22sten Dezemebr 1819., die andwerwite Eintheilung der Landwehr betreffend’, Gesetz-Sammlung (Berlin, 1820), 5–7. 123 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 78. 124 This mistake was also noticed by Clausewitz; ‘An Graf Groeben 1818 und 1819’, 259–264.

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and a return to the system prior to 1806.125 The prince had supported Scharnhorst’s reforms, but he considered their continuation to be too radical. Although he did not directly criticise Boyen, he maintained that the minister failed to realise the system’s faults, especially that it did not provide enough soldiers to defend the country.126 The main failings of the Landwehr, in his opinion, was the division of forces into two separate formations during peacetime, contrary to Scharnhorst’s assumptions and the poor training of Landwehr officers and the cavalry127 and artillery.128 A fundamental problem was that for financial reasons the Landwehr quotas were not engaging in military exercises as specified in the regulations.129 From the political point of view, the Landwehr had no advantage; it did not guarantee a combat ready reserve and, instead created social unrest and rebellion. For these reasons, the prince proposed a reform that returned principles from prior to 1806.130 Prince Augustus’s comments were not a protest against reforms per se, but rather a criticism of the deviations the creators of the reforms had failed to notice. The General Inspector of the Artillery was concerned with providing trained reservists for the army, ready and able to act in all conditions, which could not be guaranteed by a rigid division between the permanent army and the Landwehr. Therefore, although his orders coincided with the conservative offensive, he was decidedly expressing his independent opinion, his testimony that Boyen and Grolman had simply gone too far. It is difficult to draw stiff borders between the views of the two factions. Evidence of this is apparent in Müffling’s stance with regard to the prince’s memorandum. It is not entirely clear why the Chief of the General Staff responded. The time of his response is surprising, first on the 12th of June 1821 to Chancellor Karl von Hardenberg,131 and then directly to Prince Augustus on the 5th of July 1821.132 In both letters, Müffling took a characteristic stance. He considered that returning to the previous system ignored changes to society and methods of waging war. This had been made apparent in 1806, when the Frederickian style army comprising Junkers and peasants 125 ‘Denkschrift Prinz August von Preußen über die Landwehr’, ed. M. Lehmann, mwb 82, 50 (1897), 1428–1434; 51 (1897), 1449–1456. 126 Ibid., 50 (1897), 1430–1431. 127 Ibid., 1431–1434. 128 Ibid., 51 (1897), 1449. 129 Ibid., 1449–1450. 130 Ibid., 1450–1453. 131 GStA pk, vi. ha, Hardenberg, K 55, Müffling to Hardenberg, Berlin, 12th June 1821, 19; GStA pk, vi. ha, Nachlass Karl von Müffling (hereafter Müffling), No. A8, Einige Bemerkungen über die Ausführung des preußischen Landwehrsystems, Berlin, 12th June 1821, 10–31. 132 ‘General Müffling über die Landwehr’, ed. G. Meyer von Knonau, hz 70 (1893), 281–291.

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was unable to match the patriotic fervour of the French. The army fell into disarray due to the large number of foreigners in the ranks, who felt no loyalty to the king or Prussia.133 Müffling agreed with Scharnhorst that what had allowed Prussia to combat Napoleon effectively was the egalitarian duty to defend the homeland. Although badly led, the Landwehr still had higher morale than the enemy when it was fighting for its own freedom against tyranny. That is why it aroused fear in the enemy and continued to command the greatest respect among European powers. Confronting a Prussian army with the prospect of having to face universal conscription, leading directly to a national war (Nationalkrieg), was a daunting prospect. Russia and Austria called the creators of this system revolutionaries simply as a consequence of jealousy and distress. Its very existence was vital to Prussia. A poorer country would be able to provide a standing army of no more than 150,000, whereas the Landwehr system was able to put into the field as many as 640,000 soldiers.134 It was a raison d’état, without which Prussia could not hold its position among major powers. Abolition of universal conscription would relegate the rank of Prussia.135 Military exercises had shown that not all Landwehr units, especially those from the provinces, were appropriately trained for wartime combat. In theory, the Landwehrordnung was a stroke of genius, but it failed to take into account certain realities. Its main objective was to ensure security for the state by deploying the largest number of troops at the lowest possible cost. Therefore, it was essential that the debate should not focus on the foundations of the system in the Prussian monarchy, or on the political and financial aspects that made the Landwehr indispensable, but rather on how the system functioned with respect to uniting the standing army and how to raise the army’s combat abilities, what Müffling went on to discuss in detail.136 In his opinion, practical aspects were paramount. The standing army should be perceived as the primary military school, with the Landwehr where lessons were repeated and consolidated (Repetitionsschule).137 This approach led to friction between Müffling and leading figures in the army. It is paradoxical that the ‘liberal’ Prince Augustus attacked the institution that the ‘conservative’ Müffling defended. Prussia’s complicated position, however, made it essential to reach ­compromises between the army’s combat abilities and the state’s economic possibilities.138 133 Ibid., 282–283. 134 Ibid., 291. 135 Ibid., 284–285. 136 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A8, Einige Bemerkungen, 10. 137 Ibid.,14r-15. 138 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 343–344.

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The 1820s have frequently been presented as a period of Prussian stagnation.139 This is partially due to the limited amount of available historical sources for the decade, which has led to an over reliance on the opinions of the liberal camp. It was without doubt a decade determined by problems connected with a financial crisis. Treitschke states that in 1824, despite external diplomatic pressure, the king and most of his generals were forced to accepted a reformed military system.140 According to Boyen’s calculations, the country should have been able to raise 80,000 to 82,000 recruits, but budgetary and staffing restrictions allowed for no more than 28,000 to 30,000. Consequently, well over half of those eligible did not receive military training, a very large deficiency.141 Universal conscription in Prussia, therefore, basically only existed on paper.142 Furthermore, Müffling and other generals argued for reducing the period of service in the standing army to two years, which moreover had a negative impact on the level of training. Boyen assumed that the number of peacetime regular troops would be 144,000 (1 and a half percent of the population),143 but in the years 1820–1830 the actual number was around 122,000,144 while in the winter the number dipped to around 100,000.145 Controversies aroused around this state of affairs. Otto von Osten-Sacken blamed Boyen, who, in his opinion, had focused too much on ideological aspects and consequently had made mistakes in calculations, leading to a shortage of reservists.146 This view was countered by Dierk Walter, according to whom the reason for the deficit resulted from the dogmatism of Frederick William III and his advisors. These rationales, he argued, had incorrectly insisted that infantry battalions on a war footing should consist of a 1,000 men. This was the result of an assumption that although the optimal number on the battlefield was 800 soldiers, another 200 soldiers should be added to account for losses.147 However, this 800 was the standard figure for battalions during the Wars 139 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 116–117. 140 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 421–422. 141 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 127; Messerschmidt, Militärgeschichte, part 1, 61. 142 Despite this, in the 1820s, Boyen still believed it was possible to deploy on a war footing 505, 240 men and 51, 040 horses, including 334, 800 infantry, 51, 040 cavalry, 19, 800 artillery, 3, 600 sappers, 90, 000 2nd call Landwehr soldiers and 6, 000 invalids; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 487, Promemoria zum Militärwesen, 1823–1824, 21–22. 143 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 125; Schmidt, Die preußische Landwehr, 131. 144 1820 – 122 294, 1821 – 121 706, 1822–1824 – 122 256, 1825–1826 – 121 706, 1827–1830 – 122 113; Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 148; ‘Statistik über die Entwicklung des Militäretats’, Kriegsministerium, Das Königl. Preußische, 147–157. 145 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 332. 146 Osten-Sacken, Preußens Heer, vol. 2, 199. 147 On this subject also Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 187, footnote 1.

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of Liberation and was the figure Boyen used in his calculations. The monarch’s obstinacy was seen to have distorted the system.148 Indeed, Boyen perceived the monarch’s changes as a problem,149 as they assumed that in peacetime a regular company would have 150 men.150 In fact, the average number was 135 soldiers, including 30 capitulators. After subtracting non-commissioned officers, this left only 93 recruits, including musicians. Although plans were made to add five soldiers to each company, so that the number of regular soldiers in a battalion would increase to 602 men, it did not occur for financial reasons. In winter, the number of men in each battalion fell to 382 men (including 320 soldiers). In accordance with the decree of the 12th of February 1820, 40 soldiers in every line infantry battalion were sent on reserve, as were 20 soldiers in every jaegers and rifles battalion and 60 soldiers in every artillery and artillery infantry brigade. A subsequent order doubled the number, as a result of which 40 recruits were released from every battalion after autumn exercises in their second year. Until the next wave of recruits on the 1st of May, this created vacancies of 160, 40, and 120 men, respectively. A decree to correct this situation was issued on the 6th of August, which set a limit of no more than 40 soldiers to be vacated from every infantry battalion. A three-year service was, therefore, distorted, in actuality, to only 2.5 years. The decree also stipulated that, for budgetary reasons, new recruits replacing those who went into reserve after autumn exercises would not appear until ther 1st of April. Consequently, after subtracting 120 capitulators, 372 soldiers, including 12 musicians, who had started three-year training, after two years there were only 248 men left. For the required war quota of 1,002 men, the 542-man battalions (which had only reached that number between April and October) lacked 212 soldiers.151 In search of a solution, the so-called institution of the Kriegsreserverekruten was established. Royal decrees of the 29th of January and the 8th of February 1821 required Landwehr battalions to recruit not only 100 men for the standard 14day training, but another 100 men to be assembled two weeks earlier, and therefore undergo four-week training. After this training, they were to remain

148 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 332–333. 149 ‘Boyen and Gneisenau Berlin, den 4. Dezember [1815]’, Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 5, 57; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 170. 150 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 127; Osten-Sacken, Preußens Heer, vol. 2, 206; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 335. 151 ‘Zwei- oder dreijährige Dienstzeit.- Etats der Linieninfanterie 1832–1837’, William I, Militärische Schriften weiland Kaiser Wilhelm des Grossen Majestät, ed. Königlich Preußischen Kriegsministerium, vol. 1: 1821–1847 (Berlin, 1897), 143–144; Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 143.

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in reserve for their infantry battalion for the next five years.152 As Walter rightly noted, the whole system had been turned on its head: the Landwehr had become a recruiter for the standing army. Moreover, the structure presented an additional burden for an already struggling Landwehr battalion training programme.153 For this reason, on the 13th of December 1824,154 the idea was scrapped, with the assumption that 50 reserve recruits would undergo sixweek trainings in the line battalions, which could then be extended to six months, but putting the last year of their three-year service into reserve. In his critique of minister Hake’s actions, Meinecke described the situation as a ‘patching and piecing operation’.155 The negative effect on the infantry battalions was that they now had men doing seven different forms of service, including capitulators, one-year volunteers, and recruits on training programmes ranging from four weeks to three years.156 The system was extremely complicated and significantly hindered the deployment of troops on a war footing. In 1830, an attempt to remedy this was made by ceasing winter reserve and raising assignments of regiments to those of guards units, while putting others on a war footing.157 The problem, however, was not resolved and became the subject of serious discussions on shortening the time of military service.158 Treitschke blamed the situation on Minister Hake and his erroneously policies.159 The reduction of assignments in the 1820s did indeed have a negative impact, especially on younger officers who now saw poorer chances of promotion.160 Despite this, Treitschke believed the Prussian army was able to mobilise faster than its enemies, though not in order to take offensive actions.161 This opinion appears to have been decidedly over-optimistic. Closer to the probable truth is the appraisal of Dorothea Schmidt, according to whom considerable differences between the number of troops in peacetime and wartime, as well as problems with harmonising line units with Landwehr units, meant that 152 ‘Zirkular des Kriegsministeriums an alle Generalkommandos über zusätzliche Heranziehung von Landwehroffizieren zu Übungen, Komplettierung der Kriegsreserve und Übungszeiten 22. Februar 1821’, Schmidt, Die preußische Landwehr, 208–210. 153 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 343–344. 154 ‘Zwei- oder dreijährige Dienstzeit’, 144. 155 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 460. 156 ‘Zwei- oder dreijährige Dienstzeit’, 145. 157 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 132. 158 ‘Zwei- oder dreijährige Dienstzeit’, 146–217; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 337–355. 159 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 422. 160 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Abschrift: ako Friedrich Wilhelm iii an Kriegsministerium, Berlin, 12th December 1824, 185; ibid., Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 18th December 1824, 193-195v. 161 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 422–423.

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the Prussian army required considerably more time than other European armies to achieve combat readiness.162 Serious political conflict, as well as the state of the economy, had a profound effect on the Prussian army, on determining its configuration as well as the organisation of its supreme authority. 162 Schmidt, Die preußische Landwehr, 129–130.

Chapter 3

Restoration of the Prussian ‘Military Monarchy’ and Organisation of Military Authorities Frederick William iii was undoubtedly an unfortunate ruler, largely recalled in posterity as a colourless monarch, prone to hesitation and personally insecure. ‘A burgher on the throne’ wanting only to be ‘a good husband’ is how Karl Alexander von Herklots, the author of a poem in honour of the monarch, saw him already in 1798.1 The Prussian sovereign may have been noted for not seeking fame, carefulness and pedantry, but definitely not for a propensity to act. Quite unprepared for the throne, he spent his entire life in the shadow of the legendary creator of Prussian power, Frederick the Great. According to the biographer of Baron Karl vom Stein, he did not even compare well with his predecessor. ‘Frederick William ii. had had a high heart, an ardent imagination, much knowledge, and extraordinary physical vigour. In his chivalrous championship of Germany, he is thought to have aspired to revive the legendary fame of Arminius. Frederick William iii. is at the same time the most respectable and the most ordinary man that has reigned over Prussia’.2 These appraisals, however, allow us to forget that the 43-year reign of Frederick William iii was an important period in the history of the Prussian monarchy. John Robert Seeley is right to say that despite his limitations, this king was the key figure in deciding the way Prussia developed in his day. ‘Frederick William iii, though he too committed great errors for which he was mercilessly punished, assuredly deserves our esteem and, if ever sovereign did, our pity. He inherited a declining government, he was surrounded from the outset with pernicious advisers, he had been ill-educated and had grown up with a bad example before him; it was hardly to be expected in these circumstances that he should see that anything required reform. But he had remained uncorrupted; whatever in the former government had been repugnant to good sense and good feeling he discerned as clearly as if he had not grown up in the midst of it’.3 1 T. Stamm-Kuhlmann, ‘War Friedrich Wilhelm iii. ein Bürgerkönig?’, Zeitschrift für Historische Forschung 16, 4 (1989), 441–460. 2 J.R. Seeley, The Life and Times of Stein: Or, Germany And Prussia In The Napoleonic Age, vol. 1 (London, Cambridge, Leipzig, 1878), 195. 3 Ibid., 194.

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Nevertheless, even with his declared reluctance to engage in war, the army remained one of the monarch’s most important interests. Napoleon was known to complain that he found it difficult to talk with the Prussian monarch about anything other than uniforms.4 This cutting remark, however, belies Frederick William’s genuine concern for an institution that was fundamental to the very existence of the Prussian monarchy. The union between the throne and the army was for him a prime concern, hence loyal service in the armed forces was perceived as a key element of service to the state. His understanding of obedience to the monarch was literal and unconditional. An example of this attitude is his blocking of the construction of a statue of Maj. Ferdinand von Schill, the leader of a 1809 rebellion against the French in Stralsund. Despite Schill’s merits and patriotic stance, the king felt it was wrong to raise monuments honouring insubordination.5 This was the stance he also expected from the officers serving him. King was was undoubtedly the central figure of the Prussian armed forces. This was a direct consequence of Prussian tradition, where the monarch maintained a special connection with military matters. The obvious ideal in this respect was Frederick the Great. As Małgorzata Konopczyńska has rightly noted: the fundamental feature of the organisation of the supreme military authorities in the Prussian army was their personal nature. Frederick ii assigned duties not according to titles or military rank, but according to the trust he had for particular people […] Frederick ii was very distrustful of his closest retinue, which compelled him to keep secret operation plans and most of his decisions from those closest to him. For the implementation of what he wanted done, he engaged many agents without clearly defined competencies, which in effect resulted in a lack of transparency of actions and the overlapping responsibilities of various ministries and positions.6 Konopczyńska is of the opinion that the tradition was continued by successors  of Frederick ii. Even though he lacked the talent of his predecessor in these matters, the Prussian monarch retained the prerogative of supreme 4 Stamm-Kuhlmann, König in Preußens großer Zeit. Friedrich Wilhelm iii. der Melancholiker auf dem Thron (Berlin, 1992), 255. 5 F. Syben, Preußische Anekdoten. Nach Memoiren und Biographien (Berlin, 1939), 337. 6 M. Konopczyńska, Oficer-Urzędnik-Dworzanin. Kariery szlachty śląskiej w państwie pruskim (1749–1786) (Zielona Góra, 2014), 23.

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c­ ommander, the ‘warlord’ (Kriegsherr). Regardless of who occupied the throne, royal will was the supreme law in the army. A significant part of the officer corps considered themselves supporters and defenders of the throne, seeing in the monarch a guarantee for a return to pre-1806 order. In this situation, even a weak monarch such as Frederick William iii was considered the supreme military authority.7 According to Colmar von der Goltz, from 1815 he considered military affairs to be his chief prerogative and showed great interest in it.8 Likewise, Jany was of the opinion that the monarchical constitution of Prussia meant that only the king had full authority over the army.9 Frederick ­William iii was well aware of his inadequacies, which is why he found it essential to find appropriate advisors and persons who in the event of war would be able to lead the Prussian troops. This led to a situation where the most important criterion was not the actual position one held, but the trust of the monarch. In the 1815–1819 period, the person who enjoyed the king’s trust and had the greatest influence in military matters was the Minister of War Hermann von Boyen. The chief architect of the Landwehr system was also the author of a system that concentrated authority over the army in the hands of the Ministry.10 Centralisation was the design of Scharnhorst, who saw the war department as a classical ministry.11 The establishment of the ministry was officially decreed on the 3rd of June 1814, ending the existence since 1810 of two parallel institutions: the General Department of War (Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement, akd) and the Department of Military Economics (Militärökonomiedepartement, möd). The director of the former, called the ‘first officer of the General Staff’, was to stand in for the war minister until one was appointed.12 The ministry, thus, already existed although not yet headed by an nofficial minister. This temporary situation resulted from the scepticism of Frederick William iii towards the existence of a centralised institution acting as an intermediary between the monarch and the army.13 This was a serious hindrance to rebuilding the country’s defensive potential. Furthermore, the competences between the chief of the akd and his subordinate, the director of the 1st Division of the Department, who was in contact with the king, were unclear.14 This was 7 Messerschmidt, Militärgeschichte, part 1, 11. 8 C. von der Goltz, Kriegsgeschichte im Neunzehnten Jahrhundert, part 2: Im Zeitalter Kaiser Wilhelms des Siegereichen (Berlin, 1914), 18. 9 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 125. 10 Wohlers, Die staatsrechtliche Stellung, 21–23. 11 Ibid., 16–21. 12 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 32–33. 13 Meisner, Der Kriegsminister, 11. 14 Schmidt-Bückeburg, Das Militärkabinett, 20–22.

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a­ cknowledged by Chancellor Hardenberg, who informed the monarch that he lacked a person of appropriate rank and authority to coordinate the endeavor.15 The death of Scharnhorst added the problem of finding a worthy successor. According to Meinecke, Gneisenau, as the most natural candidate, turned the king’s offer down, explaining that he needed to devote more time to his personal life.16 Consequently, Boyen who was summoned to Berlin. There, with a committee, he worked to create a new military system. The committee’s recommendations were submitted to Frederick William iii on the 2nd of June and on the next day Boyen was officially nominated as Minister of War.17 According to the royal decree, Boyen oversaw without exception all military officers and authorities, as well as related civilian authorities, in matters concerning the military. With the exception of any matters to be resolved by royal decree, he had full control of these individuals and institutions. The king also appointed Boyen to head the Ministry of War’s organisational committee.18 The minister had full authority to issue military commands and deal with military personnel issues. As the chief royal advisor we was also entitled to freely refer to the monarch (Immediatvortragsrecht) and was also a member of the Council of State. The Ministry fo War was therefore part of the cabinet government creating national policy in the years immediately after the Napoleonic wars.19 On the 28th of August 1814,20 the ministry acquired the new organisational structure that Boyen had submitted a week earlier.21 The restructure was based on the opinion that the coordination of individual units was not sufficient and that issues needed to be discussed in regular conferences.22 The ministry comprised five departments. The first of these took over the functions of the former Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement (akd), especially concerning personnel. The 2nd Department was to be engaged in collecting all information essential for the waging of war and the preparation of projects for the General Staff. It was 15 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 1, 383. 16 Ibid., 384–385; Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben vol. 4: 1814, 1815 (Berlin, 1880), 261. 17 ‘Allerhöchste Kabinettsorder vom 3sten Juni 1814, wegen Ernennung des Ministerii’, Gesetz-Sammlung (Berlin, 1814), 42; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 1, 385. 18 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 1, 386. 19 Messerschmidt, Militärgeschichte, part 1, 289–290. 20 ‘Allerhöchste Kabinettsorder vom 28sten August 1814, betreffend die Deparatemts-Eintheilung des Kriegsministerii’, Gesetz-Sammlung (Berlin, 1815), 77–78; BA-MA, rh 18/1778, Allerhöchste Kabinettsordre vom 28ren August 1814., betreffend die Departements-Eintheilung des Kriegsministerii, [microfiche]. 21 Reprint: Kriegsministerium, Das Königl. Preußische, 19–21. Cf. BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 31v–32v. 22 F. Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 1, 389.

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also to be responsible for overseeing the work of the General Staff and ­adjutancy officers. Boyen clearly saw the need to modify the way in which the General Staff functioned. The revised territory of the state required a multiplification of tasks, especially in describing surveying the terrain and its reconnaissance. It was deemed essential to make the head of this institution answerable to the Ministry of War.23 The 3rd Department took over the tasks of the former 1st akd Division. The 4th Department replaced the former Militärökonomiedepartement (möd), whereas the 5th Department took over from the former War Commissariat. The director of each department was directly answerable to the minister of war. Respective department directors were Col. Ludwig von Schöler, Major Gen. Grolman, Major Ludwig Gustav von Thile i, as well as Colonels Andreas Köhn von Jaski and Friedrich von Ribbentrop. The first three departments were of key importance with regard to the development of strategy. According to Meinecke, Schöler’s tasks included preparation of all projects concerning the country’s defence, the displacement of troops, as well as the provisioning the General Staff. This, however, did not limit the prerogatives of the director of the 2nd Department, who was able to oversee the work of subordinate officers in the General Staff.24 As a result, the General Staff was made entirely subordinate to the Ministry of War. Specific was the function of the director of the 3rd Department, the ‘Departement des Militärvorträges im Kriegsministerium’.25 It seems that Boyen contributed to a breakthrough in the system he had himself designed. The first was to raise the department to the rank of the former 1st akd Division. The position of its director was elevated as he served as a royal advisor in all matters that interested the king directly. Due his increased responsibilities, Boyen was unable oversee all activities of the 3rd Department. Replacing Thile i with Col. Job von Witzleben strengthened the role of this unit, since Witzleben soon gained considerable influence with Frederick William iii, and thus royal support on much of Boyen’s reform programme. Witzleben retained his post even after being promoted to the rank of Adjutant General, a return to the practices of pre-1806.26 Another indication was the inclusion of Witzleben in the Secret Military Council, where, in addition to the chancellor, civilian affairs councillors sat. In 1818, the director of the 3rd Department was assigned to deal with all military matters directed to the king, preparing relevant royal decrees even when the minister of war was not personally engaged. His duties, 23 Kriegsministerium, Das Königl. Preußische, 20. 24 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 1, 390. 25 Kriegsministerium, Das Königl. Preußische, 20. 26 Schmidt-Bückeburg, Das Militärkabinett, 28–29; ‘Karl Ernst Job Wilhem von Witzleben’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4, 277.

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moreover, included preparing royal orders. This director also twice a week related to the king Boyen’s reports on the state of the army.27 Clearly, the director the 3rd Department rose to the rank of the king’s chief advisor. This constituted evidence of a mistake on Boyen’s part, as he allowed Frederick William iii to limit the role of his ministry. Contrary to his centralist principles, Boyen allowed his subordinates considerable freedom. This particularly concerned the 2nd and 3rd departments. In the case of the 2nd Department, the fact that Grolman and Boyen shared similar views and were close friends meant that Grolman could act freely, assuming agreement with the minister in the decisive role in shaping the concepts of the use of Prussian armed forces. Another weakness of the Ministry was the creation of two command centres for technical forces. On the 10th of February 1816, Rauch presented his reform project for the Engineers and Pioneers Corps to turn it into a separate formation with its own command. This was a departure from the practice during the years 1808–1812, when the Corps was together with the General Staff answerable to the akd chief, and the Corps Inspector was simultaneously the director of the Engineering Department in the Ministry.28 Grolman protested strongly against this proposal, arguing that it would lead to the alienation of technical officers, who were already not respected enough in the army, and to the formation of an atmosphere of a caste system. The king, having consulted on the matter with Boyen, nevertheless accepted Rauch’s proposal and enacted the reorganisation of the Corps on the 27th of March 1816.29 According to Udo von Bonin, this was the consequence of a change in the position of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps that had already occurred in the army. The creation of a specialised technical unit had been in response to the view that waging war had become too serious a matter to be entrusted to a single commander and that complex issues needed to be dealt with by specialists. However, the separation of any corps gave it considerable freedom within the army, especially with regard to replenishments, education and training, service during peacetime, and to command issues. It elevated the position of the Chief of the Corps, who was at the same time the General Inspector of Fortresses and enjoyed the support of key figures in the military establishment.30 Bonin posits 27 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 81–83; Schmidt-Bückeburg, Das Militärkabinett, 29. 28 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 33, 36–38; Frobenius, Geschichte des preussischen ­Ingenieur- und Pionier-Korps von der Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts bis zum Jahre 1886: auf Veranlassung der Königl. General-Inspektion des Ingenieur- und Pionier-Korps und der Festungen nach amtlichen Quellen, vol. 1: Die Zeit von 1848 bis 1869 (Berlin, 1906), 1–2. 29 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 90–93; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 34–36. 30 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 117–118.

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that this necessitated the separation of competencies of the Ministry and of the General Inspectorate. From that moment, all matters concerning fortifications, commanding technical troops, or of any technical nature, i.e., the construction of fortresses or exercises and armaments belonging to the prerogatives of the Corps commander. The 1st Department of the Ministry was left with the administration of only general and technical matters. This division of responsibilities, in practice lead to numerous problems and to disputes regarding competence.31 Thus another supreme military authority was created, responsible for an important activity with regard to defence, i.e., the matter of fortifications. This led to a doubling of tasks entrusted at the same time to gs officers subordinate to the Ministry and to officers of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps. This was not an isolated case. The artillery also had it own ­General-Kommando der Artillerie, founded on the 29th of February 1816, commanded by Prince Augustus. A princ du sang elevated the rank of the institution, over which he had undivided control until 1843 (from the 3rd of June 1820 as the General Inspector).32 This was another problem in the Ministry of War, and for provincial commanders under whom artillery and Engineers and Pioneers Corps officers enjoyed considerable autonomy.33 The basic mission of the Ministry was to arrange concepts for the peacetime organisation of the army. In 1815, the Prussian army remained on a war footing. The basic organisational unit was the corps, which was subdivided into mixed brigades. The first step to the peacetime reorganisation was the establishment of Military Governments on the 15th of March 1813,34 and nomination on the 18th of June 1814 the commanding generals (Kommandierender General, kg) in the provinces on the eastern bank of the Elbe.35 Pomerania and Neumark to the east of the Elbe were put under the the command of Friedrich von Tauentzien und Wittenberg, Silesia under Johann Ludwig Yorck von Wartenburg, and East and West Prussia under Bülow von Dennewitz.36 The responsibilities of 31 Ibid., 125–126. 32 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 137. 33 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 292, Instruktion über das Verhältnis des kommandierenden Generals der Provinz, der Gouverneure und Kommandanten zu den Brigadechefs, Landwehrinspekteuren, Brigadechefs und über deren Wirkungskreis zu den ihnen untergeordneten Truppen, Berlin, 13th March 1816, 30–37. 34 BA-MA, rh 18/1780, König Friedrich Wilhelm iii. von Preußen: Einrichtung von vier Militär-Gouvernements östlich der Elbe mit Instruktion, Berlin 15. iii 1813 r., [microfiche] 35 BA-MA, rh 18/1781, König Friedrich Wilhelm iii. von Preußen an den Kriegsminister Hermann von Boyen: Ernennung der Oberbefehlshaber in den Marken, in Ost- und Westpreußen und in Schlesien sowie der Gouverneure von Berlin, Königsberg und Breslau, Berlin, 18th June 1814, [microfiche]. 36 See Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 1, 393.

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these commanders were regulated by a decree of the 28th of July 1814.37 They held the utmost authority within their Kommando-Bezirk, exercising supreme command (Oberbefehl) over all military units and individuals, as well as the ­commandants of fortresses and governors of major cities. Their authority was limited in only two instances: when the king personally commanded armed forces or when the king or the minister of war on his instructions directed a plenipotentiary to take full control of the province (Vollmacht). A commanding general was in that case directly responsible for the number and training of forces under him, and consequently for the overall defence of the province. He was required to submit regular reports on the state of his army to the Ministry of War. His responsibility was also to ensure peace in the province, i.e., some form of policing. Moreover, he was obliged to monitor situations in neighbouring countries, especially military developments, about which civilian authorities were to be immediately notified.38 In an emergency, he was obliged to issue all orders (Vertheidigungs-Maasregeln) essential to the defence of the province and immediately report the situation and the countermeasures. Finally, the kg was responsible for preparing orders for the defence of the province in the event of war, which were to be passed on to the Kriegsministerium.39 Whether the kg had information from Berlin on ways forces would be used in the event of war or his own role is uncertain, but no doubt he was aware of preparations for war being made by neighbouring countries. The defence plans he sent to Berlin served as guidelines for the king with regard to security conditions. A ­ lthough instructions imposed on the commanders imposed a number of responsibilities to the Ministry of War, it at the same time emphasised their military authority in the provinces and that the monarch as the only person who could limit their prerogatives. In February 1815, Boyen presented the concept of dividing the Kingdom into six GeneralkommandoS, each headed by a kg. The minister’s intention was primarily to concentrate authority in the new provinces to facilitate assimilation as well as their defence, hence the decision to unite the provinces on the Rhine 37 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 16, Militärvorschriften, No. 535, Abschrift: Verordnung über dem gegenwärtigen Wirkungskreis der Kommandierenden Generale in den Provinzen am rechten Elbeufer, Berlin, 28th August 1814, 1–4; Koblenz, Landeshauptarchiv (lah), Bestand 402, Sachakte 476, Copia: Verordnung über dem gegenwärtigen Wirkungskreis der Kommandierenden Generale in den Provinzen am rechten Elbeufer, Berlin, 28th August 1814, 2–7. 38 With whom he should, nevertheless, remain in constant contact and not intervene in matters concerning foreign policy; cf. sa in Posen, HPPP, ref. No. 591, Hardenberg to Zerboni di Sposetti, Berlin, 10th May 1816, 22–24. See Chapter 4. 39 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 16, No. 535, Verordnung, 3v.

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as well as that of Silesia and Greater Poland. East and West Prussia were also to be united into Generalkommando vi.40 Following the Verordnung of the 30th of April,41 the Kingdom of Prussia was divided into ten Oberpräsident governorships and five ‘Military Districts’ (Armeeabtheilungen): Prussia, Brandenburg and Pomerania, Silesia and Posen, Saxony, and Rhineland-Westphalia.42 These regulations were not finalized, however, and in May the nomination of Thümen to the post of kg in the Grand Duchy of Posen was announced.43 This modification led to the creation of seven Generalkommandos:44 Prussia (Borstell), Brandenburg and Pomerania (Tauentzien), Saxony (Kleist),45 Posen (Thümen), Silesia (Friedrich von Hünerbein), Westphalia (Thielmann), Rhineland (Gneisenau), all subordinate to the army in Westphalia and the Occupation Army Corps in France.46 The instructions of the 13th of March 1816 clarified the obligations of the kg, stipulated the tasks of his subordinate commanders, and confirmed most of the 1814 regulations, only slightly modifying some providing they were insignificant in relation to military authorities.47 This created the theoretical foundations for the implementation of Boyen’s idea of how a post commanding general structure was to function, which saw it as a ‘provincial general’, coordinating actions on both the military and civilian level. This was consistent with the separation of the standing army from the Landwehr, both of which were subordinate to the kg. Such concentration of authority on the provincial level, however, was to have a negative influence on the central level as representatives of the monarchy in the provinces, possessing Immediatvortragsrecht, gained independence from the Ministry, ­especially with regard to forces under their command. As Manfred Messerschmidt has noted, contrary to the intentions of the minister, this succeeded in 40 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 84. 41 ‘Verordnung wegen verbesserter Einrichtung der Provinzial-Behörden. Vom 30ten April 1815’, Gesetz-Sammlung (Berlin, 1815), 85–98. 42 Ibid., 93–98; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 84–85. 43 Cf. Chapter 2. 44 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 85; Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4, 25. 45 BA-MA, rh 18/1782, König Friedrich Wilhelm iii. von Preußen an den Kriegsminister Hermann von Boyen: Ernennung General Graf Kleist von Nollendorfs zum Kommandierenden General in der Provinz Sachsen, Paris, 3rd October 1815, [microfiche]. 46 BA-MA, rh 18/1783, König Friedrich Wilhelm iii. von Preußen an den Kriegsminister Hermann von Boyen: Organisation des preußischen Korps und der attachierten deutschen Bundestruppen in Frankreich, Paris, 3rd October 1815, [microfiche]. 47 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 292, Instruktion über das Verhältnis des kommandierenden Generals der Provinz, der Gouverneure und Kommandanten zu den Brigadechefs, Landwehrinspekteuren, Brigadechefs und über deren Wirkungskreis zu den ihnen untergeordneten Truppen, Berlin, 13th March 1816, 30–37.

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dispersing military authority throughout the army.48 Thus Boyen, once again, violated the principles of his own reform. The trend was enhanced by the actions of Frederick William iii. The organisation of military authority in the provinces did not automatically change how the standing army structure functioned. Boyen’s ideal was to maintain sufficient forces in a given province to meet the needs of defending it. While such a situation appeared viable in the years 1815–1818 due to the return of Prussian army units from France, by the end of 1818 only the Occupation Army, including the Army Corps in France and comprising a quarter of Prussia’s standing army (four brigades), were to remain.49 According to the order of the 3rd of October 1815, the commander of these troops Zieten and the kg of Westphalia Thielmann were subordinates of Gneisenau. This situation ended with Gneisenau’s dismissal on the 20th of May 1816, as a result of which Zieten became directly subordinate only to the king, and thus gained considerable independence.50 A major issue at the time was the organisation of troops within the country, which collectively formed 12 brigades (each with two infantry regiments and two cavalry regiments).51 In late 1817 and early 1818 there were three brigades in the Rhineland, other Generalkommandos had two, and Westphalia and Posen had only one.52 This was a situation that did not correspond to what had been planned, since 1815, for the peacetime army structure. According to Meinecke, Frederick William iii, renowned for a penchant for symmetry, imposed a uniform army structure following the Russian model.53 Eight army corps were created, whose supplemental districts (Ergänzungsbezirke), in Jany’s opinion, constituted the new territorial division of the state. On the 12th of September 1816, the Ministry of War determined that each army corps 48 Messerschmidt, Militärgeschichte, part 1, 303–304. Similar Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 219–220. 49 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 125; ‘Armee-Korps in Frankreich nebst Reserve pro 1817’, mwb 1, 44 (1817), 129; ‘Dislocations-Liste des Armee-Korps in Frankreich. Das HauptQuatier des kommandirenden Gen.-Lieut. v. Zieten nebst seinem Generalstabe u. in Sedan’, mwb 2, 54 (1817), 209–211; ‘Dislokation des Königlich Preußischen Armee-Korps in Frankreich’, mwb 3, 84 (1818), 453–456. 50 Wacker, Die Alliierte, 226–227. 51 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 125. 52 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 89; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-Brigade in Westphalen’, mwb 3, 87 (1818), 475; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-Brigaden in Sachsen’, mwb 3, 87 (1818), 483–494; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-Brigaden in Schlesien’, mwb 3, 90 (1818), 499–500; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-Brigade in Posen’, mwb 3, 91 (1818), 507; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-Brigade in Brandenburg und Pommern’, mwb 3, 92 (1818), 516–517; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-Brigaden in Preussen’, mwb 3, 93 (1818), 523. 53 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 90.

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was to include four infantry regiments, four cavalry regiments, an artillery ­brigade, and a pioneers unit, which designated eight army districts.54 On the 5th of November, a division of regiments was created.55 The entire situation became rather complicated, with the existence of ten provinces, seven Generalkommandos, and eight Army Corps Districts. The Generalkommando of Brandenburg and Pomerania belonged to two different army corps. The situation was further complicated by the status of the Royal Guard and Grenadiers Corps. It was the only army corps without its own supplemental district, with an eighth of recruits from other provinces reserved for its needs. Its commander, Duke Charles of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, was an expressed enemy of Boyen and his decrees. This was manifested by the Duke’s refusal to be subordinate to the Generalkommando of Brandenburg and Pomerania on the grounds that the commander of the Royal Guard was the equivalent to the commander of a standing army brigade.56 As a consequence, an order was issued on the 23rd of December acknowledging his status as corresponding to that of a provincial kg.57 Duke Charles, nevertheless, remained subordinate to Berlin with regard to provincial and policing matters, and, in the case of disputes, the territorial commander had priority.58 The decision had a number of ramifications. It raised the rank of the leader of a faction opposed to reforms, granted the rights of a territorial commander to a commander without responsibilities for a territory, and created a situation where, in a Generalkommando territory commanded from Berlin, there were three army corps and two kgs. Thus, none of Boyen’s aims or the king’s aspirations were fulfilled. The matter of army corps commanders remained to be solved. According to Meinecke, the king’s intention was to appoint a commander for each during peacetime and to make the relation between a ka commander and the provincial kg similar to the relation between Duke Charles and Tauentzien.59 The king intensified his aims in 1818. In March, he introduced an aesthetic rather than practical division of the army corps into four ‘Army Detachments’ (Armee-Abtheilung), whose 54 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 126–127. 55 ‘Nachweisung, wie die Brigaden gegenwärtig zusammengesetzt wird, und wie sie nach Allerhöchst bestimmten Dislokation pro 1817 zusammengesetzt werden sollen’, mwb 2, 43 (1817), 122–124. 56 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 89. 57 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 16, No. 537, Bestimmungen über das Verhältniss des General-­ Commando des Garde und Grenadier Corps zu dem General-Commando der Provinz, Potsdam, 23rd December 1816, 234–235. 58 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 89; Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 128; Osten-Sacken, Preußens Heer, vol. 2, 183. 59 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 90.

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c­ ommands were to be formed in the event of war.60 On the 5th of August, army brigades were renamed as divisions and numbered from 1 to 16.61 In theory, this was to be a structure comprising four potential armies, each with two corps, which in turn each with two divisions. In anticipation of the return of the French territory occupation corps at the end of 1818, the king felt inclined to put its commander, General Zieten, in charge of the army corps stationed in territories under the provincial control of Tauentzien and Kleist. Apart from obvious organisational difficulties, this seriously violated the principle that military and provincial matters should be overseen by the kg.62 Boyen’s protests prevented this appointment, and instead Zieten was made Generalkommando in Silesia on the 11th of February 1819.63 The attitude of the generals to Boyen was ambiguous. It is difficult to objectively assess since the literature predominantly presents the reformers’ point of view. Boyen initially could rely on the full support of the Generalkommando based in Koblenz. But in May 1816, Gneisenau, widely considered the leader of the radical fraction in Prussia, was dismissed from his post, accused of belonging to freemasonry and a bad influence on the king. He was replaced by a much more obedient Hake, who was sceptical with regards to the reform party. Opposion with Hake are reflected in Clausewitz’s correspondence.64 As a disciplinarian Hake meticulously implemented Landwehrordnung policies in order to strengthen the bonds between the people and their monarch.65 Meinecke assessed him as reliable and educated, shaped in a time of reforms but dull and pedantic.66 Likewise Peter Paret, while not denying him talents, felt that he was overly attached to details.67 These appraisals reflect the opinions of Clausewitz, who was upset by the dismissal of his supervisor, Gneisenau, with

60 61

‘Königlich Verodnung’, mwb 3, 94 (1818), 531. ‘Nachweisung wie die bisherigen Brigaden künftig eingetheilt und bennant werden sollen’, mwb 3, 118 (1818), 723–725. 62 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 91. 63 ‘Wieprecht Hans Karl Friedrich Ernst Heinrich Graf von Zieten’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4, 1315. 64 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 14. November 1816’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1 (Göttingen, 1990), 234–235; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Wiesbaden, 24. Juni 1817’, ibid., 288; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 11. Dezember 1817’, ibid., 305–306; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 3. Februar 1818. – Mit Beilage: „Bemerkungen zu dem Memoire des General Leutnant Hake über unsere militärischen Einrichtungen am Rhein.“’, ibid., 314–321; etc. 65 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 199. 66 Ibid., 86. 67 Paret, Clausewitz and the State (New York, 1976), 240–241.

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whom he remained in touch.68 Hake’s letters to Boyen reveal a general with a strong sense of responsibility, ready to carry out every order of his monarch and reliably informing the minister of war of his actions.69 A hard-line opponent of the Boyen-Grolman duo was the distinguished Napoleonic war veteran Kleist von Nollendorf. In a letter to the king of the 26th of November 1817, he described the two men as incurable idealists. He cited their lack of experience, which led to forceful impositions of solutions that were divorced from practical reality. In Kleist’s opinion, experienced officers of the line should have been consulted with the introduction of the new system .70 Kleist was a true ‘man of the king’, a conservative, totally devoted to the throne,71 for whom Frederick William iii had limitless trust and who enjoyed esteem from the ranks of the army. He had been made a Field Marshal in 1821, four years before Gneisenau. In that same year, despite the king’s appeal, he retired from military service. He explained that he had actually delayed his retirement as not wanting it to be associated with the 1819 replacement of the minister of war, a clear illustration of his relationship with Boyen.72 A similar stance was likely held by Bülow von Dennewitz73 and Zieten, both of whom also had conservative views and devotion to Frederick William iii. The appointment of Zieten as commander of the Occupation Corps was largely determined by a desire to create a counterbalance to the predominance of command posts in the west being held by reformers, but also to improve relations with Wellington who had little time for ‘Jacobins’.74 Zieten was constantly promoted by the monarch and held the post of kg in Silesia until 1839. Meinecke assessed Tauentzien as a person with no ­understanding of modern warfare, and therefore quite useless. The German scholar considered him to be inconsequential, a typical court general who from the outset dismissed the reformers. The memorandum Tauentzien sent to Hardenberg on the 19th of March 1819 expressed his acceptance of the pre-1806 principles of army organisation an a shallow way admiration for the Landwehr as an institution.75 He was, however, quite differently perceived by his contemporaries. The author of a hagiographic 1832 biography praised the general’s 68

‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 13. Mai 1816’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 213–216. 69 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 2nd Januar 1817, 8–9; ibid., Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 22nd November 1817, 25–26; ibid., Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 30th October 1817, 27-28v; ibid., Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 26th November 1817, 29–32; ibid., Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 27th November 1817, 35. 70 The excerpt from this letter is found in the work of: Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 70. 71 Geschichte des Geschlechts, 160–161. 72 Ibid., 164–166, 168. 73 Varnhagen von Ense, Leben, 436. 74 Wacker, Die Alliierte, 228–229. 75 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 198–199.

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military merits, including his effectiveness in commanding the Landwehr during the final Napoleonic campaigns. He was depicted as having the combined qualities of a fine military commander and an effective diplomat, abilities he put to good use in loyal service to the king.76 According to Meinecke, Thümen, in spite of his sincere intentions, was a figure form the old Prussian school who subjecting all matters to military authority.77 He introduced Landwehr out of a sense of duty rather than conviction.78 He was known for being highly strung, tactless, and incapable of collaborating with civilian authorities. Nor was he successful in winning over the Polish aristocracy in his province.79 His attempt to cover up the reasons for the 1816 false alarm in Posen are utterly farcical in his demand that the police should provide evidence of a subversive mood in the province.80 Specific were the cases of Borstell and Thielmann. The former was an impulsive person of eccentric inclinations who remained under the influence of the liberal president (Oberpräsident) Theodor von Schön. He had displayed personal courage in the crisis during the rebellion of Saxon troops, which lost him his post as corps commander; Blücher even wanted him courtmartialled.81 This experienced commander was, however, not unfamiliar with the traditions of the aristocratic-military party, hidden behind a liberal pose.82 Inspecting the Prussian Generalkommando, Grolman found him to be inclined to extreme behaviour, which was reflected in the state of defensive preparations in the province.83 As a former Saxon general and corps commander under Napoleon, Thielmann was potentially supportive of reform, but also the reason why he chose to adopt a restrained stance.84 His biographer considers him to have been a tragic figure. In his Saxon homeland, he was seen as a traitor, whereas in the Prussian army he had the reputation of being an incurable Francophile with uncertain views.85 Testimonies of his actions in Westphalia, however, clearly show that he supported Boyen’s military reforms,86 though in 76

C. von Gorszkowsky, Das Leben des Generals Grafen Bogislaw von Tauentzien von Wittenberg (Frankfurt a. d. Oder, 1832),127–134, 141–143. 77 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 87. 78 ‘Heinrich Ludwig August von Thümen’, 447–449. 79 Sommer, ‘Das Generalkomanndo’, 57–60. 80 sa in Posen, Hppp, ref. No. 591 Thümen to Hassforth, Posen, 3rd May 1816, 3; ibid., Hassforth to Zerboni di Sposetti, Posen, 12th May 1816, 6–9. 81 ‘Karl Leopold Heinrich Ludwig von Borstell’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3, 383–390; Hofschröer, 1815, 8, 34–39. 82 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 87. 83 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Grolman to Boyen, Königsberg, 7th September 1816, 2; A fragment of that letter; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 39. 84 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 87. 85 Pettersdorf, Thielmann, 314–315, 324–325. 86 Ibid., 308–309.

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later years he did carry out what he felt were unnecessary Landwehr reforms.87 Thielmann was a personal friend of Prince William and, thus, had the backing of an important protector in the conservative camp.88 In later years this allowed him not only to retain his post as kg (from 1820 in the Rhineland), but also an important officers studying the reform of the Prussian cavalry.89 Despite appraisals, it is legitimate to say that Boyen did not enjoy the unconditional support of the senior command staff, which significantly affected his ability to act. This was not the end of the weakness in the organisation of supreme military authorities. Frederick William iii overtly used his influence to position his sons and relatives in positions to decide the defence of the state. On the 6th of May 1817, he issued an order to carry out inspections for war preparations in certain provinces. Prince William was to visit Pomerania and Prussia, Kronprinz Frederick William the Rhineland, and Prince Frederick Silesia.90 The details of the missions are known only fragmentarily, reprinted by Kurt von Priesdorff.91 The Bereisungsplan der Rheinischen und Westfällischen Provinzen für den Provinzen von Preußen, K.H. document contained a 15-point inspection programme. In addition to the visitation of military units, the primary objective was to assess the state of fortifications. Such inspections had been carried out a year earlier in areas to the east and west of the Elbe by Grolman and Rauch.92 The king either wanted to know what progress had been made since then or felt that the generals’ reports were lacking in detail and had more confidence in his relatives. The visit of the crown prince to the Rhineland must have been seen as an exceptional event and an opportunity to promote the defence of the province. For this reason Gneisenau and Boyen made sure that Clausewitz would be the officer assigned to the crown prince, in order that Hake would not obscure the way in which the heir to the throne would perceive matters.93 From Borstell’s letters we know that the kg was obliged to inform inspectors of the state of the province’s defences and the plan of action in 87 88 89

Cf. Thielmann’s memorandum to Prince William of 20th March 1823; ibid., 320. Ibid., 316–320. ‘Über Vermehrung und anderweitige Organisation des Kavallerie, Ende 1821 oder Anfang 1822 (Entwurf von Thielmanns Hand in seinem Nachlasse).’, ibid., appendix v, 338–341. 90 On the Gneisenau’s letter to Clausewitz of 13th May 1817, reprinted in Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 270, footnote 2. According to the Borstell’s correspondence, this order can be dated 6th May 1817; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Bericht des Gen. Borstell über die Vertheidugung von Preussen, Königsberg, 19th January 1818, 56. 91 ‘König Friedrich Wilhelm iv. von Preußen’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 6 (Hamburg, 1938), 26–27. 92 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 36. 93 Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 270, footnote 2.

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the event of war.94 This seems to confirm that, despite the theoretically position of the Ministry of War, it was the king who was in effect the central figure in the management of the Prussian army. This is confirmed by the career of Müffling, who in the years 1815–1819 was an important Prussian officers in the western provinces.95 During the last Napoleonic campaign he served as a liaison officer in the Duke of Wellington’s headquarters, the command centre of the allied army. For over four months after retaking Paris, he served as its governor and, in early October 1815, was again assigned as a liaison officer in the headquarters of the Duke of Wellington, who was then commanding the occupation forces in France. He spent the winter with the duke in Paris, then, in the spring of 1816, he returned to Koblenz and together with assigned officers carried out trigonometrical surveying of the Rhine region in the summer months of 1816, 1817, and 1818. The winters of 1816/1817 and 1817/1818 he spent at the Duke of Wellington headquarters in Paris. In April 1818, he was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant General and was engaged in preparing the Congress of Aachen. Following a decision taken during the Congress, in October 1818 he was assigned the task of preparing a plan for the withdrawal of Prussian troops from France and was assigned to the commander of the Prussian corps, Zieten. He was next sent to Brussels, where in late 1818 and early 1819 he participated in talks on how the Prussian observation corps should behave in the event of French aggression against the Netherlands. According to Müffling’s memoirs, he became the joint Austro-Prussian representative in efforts to persuade the Dutch monarch to cooperate.96 He presented memoranda for the Duke of Wellington and for King William i, which contained a proposal, in the event of war against France, that was based on a plan agreed in the secret military protocol of the 15th of November 1818.97 Wellington torpedoed the Prussian representative’s plan. The situation should, nevertheless, be considered significant. Although Müffling was a talented staff officer and military diplomat, he was as yet not experienced as a commander. He would, in the meantime, not only prepare a plan for the coalition in the event of war,98 but would all but implement it. Granting him command of 94 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Bericht des Gen. Borstell, 56. 95 Müffling, Aus meinem Leben, 2nd Ed., 242–251; H-J. Behr, ‘Lebensbild’, Karl Freiherr von Müffling. Offizier-Kartograph-Politkier. Lebenserinnerungen und kleinere Schriften, ed. H-J. Behr (Cologne-Weimar-Vienna, 2003), 14–16. 96 Müffling, Aus meinem Leben, 2nd Ed., 249–252; Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 2, 471–473. 97 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 48, Memoire an Wellington und Metternich, 7–12. 98 Müffling was to have worked on this problem already in 1817, producing a a document entitled ‘Zweckmäßige Aufstellung der Preußischen Armee im Fall einer Angriff auf die Großherzogtum Niederrhein’; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 69.

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the corps would mean omitting the kgs in the western provinces, as well as the large number of high ranking and more experienced generals Müffling’s position seems primarily determined by the Prussian monarch, as well as his good relations with Wellington. It is difficult to determine what exact influence Boyen and Grolman had on the mission, though we know that demands in the Brussels negotiations for cooperation with the Prussian corps were consistent with Ministry of War policy, and it was to this ministry that Müffling submitted a full report of the proceedings.99 The situation shows that formal positions were not reflective of the real possibilities of influencing strategic policies of the Hohenzollern monarchy. The position of the Ministry of War in the Prussian system was aptly described by Gerhard Ritter. In his opinion, it is a reflection of the role played by Boyen during the 1815 campaign, the entire duration of which he spent at the king’s headquarters away from the influence of military operations. The Ministry was a provisory institution for peacetime, with no real significance in the case of conflict, where the leading role would be played by generals appointed by the king and their general staffs.100 Boyen’s fall, considered by Meinecke to symbolise the end of the reform era, actually initiated a period of dynamic structural change in the Prussian army. To the dissatisfaction of Gneisenau, the person appointed to succeed Boyen as Minister of War was Hake.101 Correspondence with Gneisenau indicates that Clausewitz was a candidate to succeed Grolman.102 For the time being, the temporary head of the Abteilung für Kriegsgeschichte was Col. Rühle von Lilienstern, a consequence of Grolman’s memorandum of the 24th of December 1819 nominating him in the event of the absence of the Department head.103 Rühle, while an exceptionally talented officer, had fairly limited combat experience. As a sign of his erudition, he was simultaneously the director of studies at the Allgemeine Kriegsschule and co-editor of the mwb.104 Hake and Rühle could not have formed the kind of partnership as their predecessors, but sources do not yield any information about the nature of their relationship. Another important decision form this period was the unification of the post of army 99 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 2, 471–472. Boyen also received a copy of the report prepared for Hardenberg, together with memoranda for Metternich and Wellington; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 48, Müffling to Boyen, Koblenz, 6th December 1818, 1. 100 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 217–218. 101 ‘An Boyen, Berlin, den 16. Dezember 1819’, Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 5, 399–400. 102 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, O.O., 18. Dezember 1819’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 372–373. 103 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 38v. 104 [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 162.

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corps commander with that of the Generalkommando, introduced in an order of the 3rd of April 1820.105 On that same day, the corps were numbered and given nominated commanders.106 Henceforth, the Prussian army structure was as follows: i Army Corps (Borstell), ii Army Corps (Crown Prince Frederick William), iii Army Corps (Tauentzien), iv Army Corps (Kleist), v Army Corps (Lt Gen. Friedrich von Röder),107 vi Army Corps (Zieten), vii Army Corps (vacant), and viii Army Corps (Thielmann). Thielmann was temporarily put in command of vii Army Corps district, though this command in Münster was soon taken on by Lt Gen. Heinrich von Horn. Thus several years of efforts by Frederick William iii were fulfilled. The unification of provincial and standing army structures was a logical step and contributed to a strengthening of the position of the Kommandierende Generäle. The kgs now constituted competition to central institutions, suiting the manner of management preferred by Frederick William iii. According to Manfred Messerschmidt, every minister of war now had to expect powerful opposition from members of the commanding staff,108 most of whom were devoted to the king. This, however, does not seem to have concerned Minister of War Hake, who according to Austrian General Steigentesch’s 1824 report from his mission to Berlin, was together with Witzleben a close collaborator of Frederick William iii. In his opinion, army matters were the monarch’s main interest and he spent many hours daily analysing them with these two advisors, who had free access to the monarch at any time of day.109 The evolution of the Prussian system of managing the army had gradually returned to the monarchy monopolising power and reserving for itself the selection of advisors and deciding all military matters. The views of the Prussian monarch were further reflected in changes that were made to the highest ranking military institutions. The idea that the Ministry of War should possess all the capability to respond was not to the monarch’s liking. Hence, in 1820 attempts were made to add a new organisation to 105 ‘Verordnung vom 3. April, betreffend die Verhältnisse der kommandirenden Generale, bei der jetzt bestehenden Eintheilung der Armee. (Bekannt gemacht den betreffenden ­Militair-Behoerden durch das Kriegs-Ministerium unterm 5. April 1820)’, Preußische ­Militair-Gesetz-Sammlung enthaltend bis zum Jahre 1835…, ed. C. Friccius (Berlin und Elbing, 1836), 155–156. 106 BA-MA, rh 18/1784, König Friedrich Wilhelm iii. von Preußen an das Kriegsministerium: Ernennung der Kommandierenden Generale des i.-viii. Armeekorps und Gewährung einer Zulage für Generalleutnant von Röder, Potsdam, 3rd April 1820, [microfiche]. 107 Sommer, ‘Das Generalkomanndo’, 60–62. 108 Messerschmidt, Militärgeschichte, part 1, 304–305. 109 Stern, ‘Ein Bericht des Generals von Steigentesch über die Zustände Preußens aus dem Jahre 1824’, hz 83 (1899), 259–260.

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the highest military authorities. It began on the 21st of September 1820 with the appointment of Müffling as director of all topographic and trigonometric works under the aegis of the Kriegsministerium.110 He thus became responsible for all maps and other materials essential to the waging of war, which had previously been a core competency of the 2nd Department in the Ministry of War. Shortly after, Rühle instructed Müffling to present his views on the activities of the General Staff to the minister of war. Müffling applied himself meticulously the task. He agreed with recent decisions and called for the post of the 2nd Department director to be filled as soon as possible. In an excerpt from his letter cited by Ritter, Müffling believed that the General Staff had three major tasks: service in the tgs, gathering materials and preparing for war, and military education. He advised that the Chief of the General Staff could only perform all these tasks only through a government minister who had control of all army matters.111 Therefore it seems that Müffling perceived the role of the departmental chief similar to Boyen. His nomination to the post of the Chief of the General Staff of the Army (Chef des Generalstabs der Armee) was received on the 11th of January 1821.112 The king’s decision was motivated on the grounds that he was satisfied with the general’s work and that Müffling’s views were in accordance with royal intentions. The newly appointed chief was entrusted with the tasks of selecting and recruiting officers to serve on the General Staff, preparing all necessary maps and surveying measurements, supervising all the materials submitted to the Plankammer, and issuing instructions for corps officers in peacetime and wartime. The Prussian monarch stressed that the General Staff should not become a separate corps within the army, for which reason there had to be a rotation of staff between the General Staff and line troops. Because of the General Staff’s primary task, to assist higher army commanders, the Chief of the General Staff of the Army should act in close collaboration with the minister of war. The roles of Müffling and Rühle overlapped, and since Rühle was of a lower rank, on the 25th of January 1821, in addition to his post as head of the 2nd Department, he was made Chief of the Great  ­General  Staff.113 The title originated from a distinction that had been made in the Allerhöchste Kabinettsorder (ako) on the 20th of June 1817, dividing General Staff officers working in  Berlin  (Grosser Generalstab, ggs) from

110 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 38v; Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 253–254. 111 Ritter, Staatskunst, 372, footnote 18 on 219. Cf. BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 38v–40. 112 See BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 40; rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 18–19. 113 See BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 20–22.

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those delegated to the units (­Truppengeneralstab, tgs).114 The director of the Department was therefore doubly subordinate, securing materials designated by the Chief of the General Staff. Reasons for these decrees have been variously appraised. Wohlers believed that the position of Chief of General Staff was based more on principles than on the political system. Müffling was free to take up a different position or perform different tasks.115 Developing the thought of Max Jähns, Wohlers stated that the decision to create a new position had been unplanned. Because of Müffling’s seniority, he could not be subordinate to the lower ranking Rühle as the director of the Department.116 Although Jähns saw a virtual equality between the two positions, such a conclusion is not justified. The significance of seniority is noted by the author of an unpublished manuscript on the history of the General Staff.117 In his appraisal, the main reason behind the changes was the king’s reluctance to a strong Ministry and the desire to personally control the centralised institution. This began a process of slow erosion that lasted decades. In a polemic against the theses of Paul Bronsart von Schellendorf,118 the author of the manuscript rejected the view that the newly appointed head of the gs simultaneously became the chief advisor of the king. In support of his argument, cooperation with the Ministry did not grant the head of the General Staff Immediatvortragsrecht, which meant that he could only contact the king through the minister. Therefore, the gs chief was not independent. The king’s intentions are similarly described by Stoeckel,119 in whose opinion Frederick William iii while desiring execution of tasks, he wanted an institution that was separate from the Kriegsministerium and directly under his control. The king’s desire to subordinate the Ministry resulted from the need to gain its approval for his independent decrees. The significance of the gs chief post, in Stoeckel’s opinion, was its inherently formal but indefinable subordination to the monarch, which continued to function during its existence. The sequence of events was not accidental, but rather the result of deliberate actions of the monarchy. The king would not have been unaware of the rules of seniority. Bearing in mind the trust Frederick William iii had for Müffling, the subse-

114 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 35, 41–42; cf. Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 122, footnote 213. 115 Wohlers, Die staatsrechtliche Stellung, 24–25. 116 Ibid., 24; Jähns, Feldmarschall Moltke, part 2, 1st half: Meisterjahre, A: 1858–66 (Berlin, 1900), 267–268. 117 BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 19–20. 118 P. Bronsart von Schellendorf, Der Dienst des Generalstabes, 4th Ed. (Berlin, 1905), 23. 119 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 40v–41.

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quent steps assume a logic in granting him an important post.120 The appointment of Müffling to the post of Chief of the General Staff of the Army had ­various ramifications. Primarily it created out of the General Staff an institution under the supervision of a head beyond the Ministry, such as the Engineers and Pioneers Corps and the Artillery Inspectorate. The decree for the appointment, however, required cooperation with other institutions, and stated that the gs chief’s advisory role was still through the Ministry. The position of the Ministry was weakened, even if the minister (primarily on the personal level) continued as royal advisor, and the Chief of the General Staff remained dependent on the Ministry of War. Historiographically, both Hake and Müffling are presented as representing the same political option. However, the opinion of Ritter who presented Müffling as a man of the centre is significant. He was undoubtedly a conservative, condemning with equal measure impetuous nationalism and the reformists’ politicization of the army, for whom Gneisenau was above all the leader of the Tugendbund. Ritter saw, on the other hand, in Müffling a deep professionalism, directly inherited from the Scharnhorst school. The precision, reliability, and attention to detail, qualities that Müffling personally prided himself on, Ritter regarded as the foundation of modern general staff work.121 Inspired by the the field marshal’s memoirs, Müffling held an intermediate stance between two extremes in the Prussian army. Although Clausewitz pointed to a convergence of views in technical matters between the two generals during their time in the Rhineland Generalkommando,122 Hake and Müffling did not form an amicable partnership, and their collaboration was far from harmonious. This is illustrated in materials concerning disputed issues in the years 1821–1829, which reflect a level of independence, decision-making freedom, and real influence of the chief of the gs on army matters. The basic cause of disputes between the two institutions throughout the 1820s was the issue of the reduction of posts, mainly resulting from the financial difficulties of the Hohenzollern monarchy. According to an entry of the 20th of June 1817, a total of 61 officers were employed at the gs.123 On the actual Rangliste, however, the names of only 52 officers appear, and their number fell

120 It is worth noting that after finishing his mission in the Netherlands, Müffling turned down his nomination as an emissary to London and instead returned to Berlin in March 1819; GStA PK, vi. ha, Hardenberg, K 55, Müffling to Hardenberg, Berlin, 11th April 1819, 16-17v; Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 252. 121 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 118–120, 346–347, footnote 25 on 120. 122 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 11. Dezember 1817’, 305–306. 123 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 35.

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to 47 in 1819.124 In the institution that Müffling took over in March 1821, there were over 80 posts, though many with vacancies, especially in the tgs.125 A process of staffing changes began in that month. According to Müffling,126 the state resulted from decisions made on the basis of the ako of the 15th September 1820, in view of which, apart from the chief, two gs officers were added to every army corps. The work of these officers was appreciated and there was a desire to utilise their skills. An ako of the 19th of January 1821 detailed that the Army Corp gs chief was to be selected from higher ranking officers in order to stress the significance of that post. This, however, only concerned peacetime appointments to the post and the gs chief felt it necessary to have similar officers holding such posts in wartime. This was a challenge, because the forming of Armeeabtheilungen required 15 additional staff officers and 17 lower-ranking officers. While there were no problems in the case of the latter, the reservoir of the former was limited. To remedy this situation, four chiefs of the ggs section were to allocate officers to the newly formed armies. The problem of finding officers of the appropriate rank is why Müffling wanted to recruit from officers attached to the Ministry and princes of the blood. According to documents attached to the letter, the wartime gs was to have as many as 94 officers.127 The monarch responded to these desiderata in a letter of the 29th of March 1821,128 confirming that in each of the nine Generalkommandos, the chief of the gs would be selected from among higher ranking officers, who would have as subordinates one major and one captain or lieutenant. One captain or lieutenant would also be attached to each of the 18 divisions. The headquarters in Berlin were to include four section chiefs, of whom one would be the director, and therefore a high-ranking staff, whereas the other could be of any rank. Three staff officers and three captains would be attached to each of the six main delegations and one to the Luxembourg Governor. The above decrees initiated a series of problems, illustrating the unsettled position of the gs in the military system. The first to emerge was the negative attitude of division commanders towards assigned gs officers. Hake informed Müffling of this situation in a letter on the 29th of April 1821.129 Apparently, a 124 Including nine in the department, 16 in the ggs, the rest in the tgs, and adjutants detailed to the princes; ibid., 38. 125 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, General Staff posts, June 1820–March 1821, 5–8v. 126 Ibid., Müffling to Frederick William iii [appendices A, B and C], Berlin, 7th March 1821, 9–13v. 127 Ibid., 13. 128 Ibid., Frederick William iii to Müffling (copy), Berlin, 29th March 1821, 23. Cf. BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 44. 129 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 29th April 1821, 33–34v.

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questionnaire had been sent to all division commanders on the 5th of April 1821130 regarding a plan to liquidate the post of second adjutant, with the request to express an opinion within six months. Responses had been provided by Maj. Gen. Friedrich August von Brause (5th Division) and Maj. Gen. ­Wilhelm Henckel von Donnersmarck (6th Division). Both commanders expressed the opinion that a second adjutant was a useful subordinate and that they would prefer to reduce their staff by one gs officer. Hake warned that many other divisional commanders were of a similar opinion. This, in his eyes, was due to the improper employment of gs officers, whom the commanders, finding no other use for them, had them carry out less important tasks. In a letter sent by Henckel, he stated that most of these tasks could have been carried out by adjutants. In the minister’s opinion, while the commanders indeed did not make proper use of the tgs officers and misunderstood their role, these officers were often unavailable for many months due to work assigned to them by the 2nd Department. The minister recommended that Müffling should ensure that the tgs officers made themselves more useful, and especially to ensure their more frequent presence in their assigned garrisons. The minister himself undertook to influence the commanders to make more sensible use of the gs officers. In a subsequent letter, Hake complains that ggs offers were overexploiting adjutants in the provinces.131 Müffling referred to the minister’s letters twice. First, in an appendix to a letter of the 29th of April 1821,132 he criticized entrusting adjutants to tasks that had previously been carried out by gs officers. He felt that young officers did not guarantee an appropriate level of competence, experience, or discretion. He explained his point of view in far greater detail on the 28th of October 1821.133 In refuting the allegations of division commanders, Müffling argued that although their opinions might reflect everyday situations, they did not account for what tgs officers achieved annually. In support, he was prepared to present a copy of appeals from generals Johann Hiller von Gaertringen (10th Division) and Georg von Hacke (7th Division) who requested relief for their gs officers from some of their assignments because they were more valuable for conducting training in the garrison. The gs chief, however, did not rule out that some of tgs officers might have neglected their duties. However, he baulked at returning to times when officers, engaged solely in scientific study, became theoreticians of no practical use during an actual war. He did acknowledge that one could not limit the training of officers to only 130 131 132 133

Ibid., Hake to division commanders (copy), Berlin, 5th April 1821, 35. Ibid., Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 4th June 1821, 46–47v. Ibid., Annex to draft of letter from Müffling to Hake, Berlin, 7th June 1821, 59–60v. Ibid., Müffling to Hake (draft), Berlin, 28th October 1821, 71–72v.

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­ ractical aspects of service – the neglect of scientific education could result in p a deficit of men familiar with the basic precepts of the art of war. A few months later, Hake sent Müffling the results of the survey.134 As predicted, most of the commanders were inclined to letting gs officers go. The initiative to withdraw a single adjutant from each division came directly from the king. Hake could not delay the matter and the minister was convinced that in peacetime each division should have a gs officer. Although he disagreed with the division commanders, Hake felt it necessary again to turn Müffling’s attention to their general dissatisfaction with the allocated gs officers. In the minister’s opinion, this resulted from the practice of earlier years, when these officers were assigned tasks without their commander’s knowledge, and carried them out whether or not their presence was required at the division garrison. There were also cases of tgs officers refusing to perform tasks related to their garrison and instead continuing externally assigned work. Hake stressed that this state of affairs had to change. He suggested that Müffling should find solutions whereby the officers would spend more time at division headquarters and assign tasks of greater use to their commanders. He also recommended that they should complete research in the division so as not to delay the execution of tasks ordered by their commanders. Müffling analysed this letter together with the enclosed reply of the generals.135 He concluded that apart from generals Brause, August Friedrich von Wrangel, and Henckel (who was in fact leaving and whose successor might be of a different opinion), the remaining generals did not raise the resignation of gs officers. The gs chief appreciated Hake’s support for leaving staff officers in the divisions during peacetime. He again warned against returning to the situation before 1806, when there were too few officers in peacetime and their time could not be spent on self-improvement. In the Landwehr era, this was unthinkable. Müffling found some of the dissatisfaction of the commanders surprising. In his correspondence, he had always stressed that gs officers were educated to deal with scientific problems and were therefore more useful to their commanders in wartime. Most division commanders replied that they had no problem finding work for staff officers. Hake maintained that the commanders were dissatisfied with their collaboration with the assigned tgs officers. He again suggested that staff officers were being given additional tasks without their commander’s knowledge. Müffling confirmed that such practices had been apparent in an earlier period. Hake recalled that as a kg he had rarely been informed of additional tasks being assigned to Generalkommando staff officers. According to whom, gs officers 134 Ibid., Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 11th March 1822, 82–83. 135 Ibid., Müffling to Hake (draft), Berlin, 16th March 1822, 84–86.

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were more often than not away on missions at times when their presence in the division was essential.136 ­Ultimately, the matter had remained unresolved. Another problem for Müffling was issue of having to lower in the ranks of officers serving in the ggs. The postings adopted in March 1821 assumed the pay of the nine chiefs of general staff of each army corps and of three section chiefs (the fourth, as director of the 2nd Department, was paid by the Kriegsministerium) would equal the pay of a regiment commander.137 A breakthrough in the matter of pay was the monarch’s expressed desire for the tgs to be staffed by higher ranking officers. Müffling had not grasped the situation and failed to respond immediately to the king’s declaration on the 4th of June 1821.138 Frederick William iii ordered the scope of duties of the chief of the gs in the army corps to be specified. The king wanted to be sure that these posts were offered to the best officers. He also gave notice that henceforth Generalkommandos gs chiefs were to be treated as of more importance and of higher status than ggs section chiefs. According to Müffling’s account,139 the minister of war from the outset was against the ranks of the two types of officer being equal, addressing the potential difficulties of recruiting candidates to serve in the provinces. Müffling put off a decision, but in 1823 he received an order to carry out the king’s wishes. Müffling resisted, arguing that it would lower the prestige of service in the sections and complicate the procedure for nominating gs chiefs in the corps. In his opinion, it was not a particular military rank, but the qualities of a candidate and his ability to support the commander that should be the deciding factors. Until then, when a vacancy occurred, three officers would be presented to the minister and he would select the most appropriate one for the province, even if a junior officer with theoretically the least experience. Now, however, if a transfer to the Generalkommando involved a promotion, senior officers not selected felt a right to be aggrieved. Attempting to maintain freedom in manoeuvering such situations, Müffling kept the matter secret. A problem, however, occurred when a vacancy appeared for the post of chief of General Staff of vi Army Corps, described in the biography of Karl von Reyher.140 In Berlin there were four meritorious 136 Ibid., Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 23rd March 1822, 88. 137 Ibid., Frederick William iii to Müffling (copy), Berlin, 29th March 1821, 23. 138 Ibid., Frederick William iii to Müffling (copy), Berlin, 4th June 1821, 44. 139 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A10, Karl von Müffling, Untitled document, s.l., 18th June 1825, 9–12. This text is in a file concerning training exercises for troops, It has no addressee, but it is signed by Müffling and features a date. It is difficult to say whether it is a letter, a draft of a letter, an account or perhaps an excerpt from his memoirs. 140 K. von Ollech, Carl Friedrich Wilhem von Reyher. General der Kavallerie und Chef des Generalstabes der Armee. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Armee, part 4 (Berlin, 1879), 46.

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s­ ection chiefs – Maj. Gen. Ludwig von Reiche, Col. Karl von Selasinsky, Major Karl von Rheinbaben, and Major von Uklansky – among whom the minister could select for the post. In accordance with Müffling’s recommendation, however, the post was given to the young Major Reyher. This staff officer, who until April 1823 had served in the Berlin headquarters,141 and before that in the Generalkommando in Prussia, was in terms of character and competence more suited to serve under Zieten in Silesia. On the 17th of May 1824, Müffling put forward his candidature, which was accepted by Frederick William iii two days later. The order Müffling received should not have been known to section chiefs, and therefore there was a chance that things would remain as in 1821.142 However, the omitted officers felt offended by the nomination of the junior colleague, about which Müffling informed the king in a letter on the 26th of May 1824. At his request, the king wrote a letter on the 10th of June, in which he asked the Chief of the General Staff of the Army to convince the three officers on his behalf that the nomination of Reyher should not be perceived as an insult. The monarch also assured them that he valued their work, evidence of which was Selasinsky’s promotion, meant to show that the post of a section chief at the ggs was in no way inferior to that of a chief of gs in a army corps. The king expressed hope that this would help to conciliate the officers.143 It seems that Müffling had made a mistake, departing from his usual practice of proposing candidates of equal rank. The attitude of the officers exposed the difficulties of implementing the king’s wishes without affecting morale in the army. Under the pretext of financial savings, a new system of postings was further restricted and presented on the 7th of August 1824.144 Fundamentally inconsistent with Müffling’s proposals, it had been presented in a Pro Memoria in March of that year.145 In his opinion, the situation in Prussia, especially the need to raise the level of training in the Landwehr, increased the significance of the gs. In order to maintain an appropriate state of preparedness for war, it was essential to rotate officers between the gs and line units to show that gs officers were familiar with the practical side of warfare. Müffling believed that officers who had experience in both types of military service were most reliable. Hence, all regiment command posts would eventually be occupied by former gs officers. For this purpose he designed a specific military career path 141 Ibid., 45. 142 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A 10, Müffling, Untitled document, 9–10. 143 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Frederick William iii to Müffling (copy), Berlin, 10th June 1824, 116. Cf. Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 46. 144 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 46. 145 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Draft of Pro Memoria, s.l., 10th March 1824, 105–112v.

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to fill the army with competent officers. Service in the gs was at this time was not appealing and the situation needed to change. Müffling, however, insisted on voluntary recruitment and therefore incentives were necessary, such as prestige, possibilities for promotion, or higher pay, bases upon which he ­wanted to build the General Staff. It was apparent how weak these foundations had become in the recent issuing of the ako which required future candidates for the post of chiefs of general staff of the army corps to be selected from among only higher ranking gs officers. In reality, apart from the Chief of the General Staff of the Army, no one in that institution was of a higher rank. Suitable candidates could theoretically be found from among the commanders of regiments and brigades. However, all of Müffling’s attempts to recruit such high-ranking officers ended in failure. The reason being that such transfers did not entail promotion, extension of responsibilities, or increase in pay. And there was no point in employing anyone in such a post against their will. Therefore, Müffling proposed a comprehensive change in the rules regarding the employment of officers under his charge, in which chiefs of general staff of the army corps would play a key role. So far they had not been perceived as sufficiently important in the eyes of the king and not taken into account for filling the posts of brigade or division commanders. The post of chief of general staff of the army corps was hardly a springboard for promotion and naturally many officers requested to be sent back to the line. Hence, Müffling pushed through a rule whereby the post of chief of gs of the army corps entitled nomination for the command of a brigade. The system that was announced was opposite to Müffling’s opinions. Not only were postings for his General Staff reduced, but also the post and pay corresponded to rank.146 Müffling played for time, requesting that the introduction of the new system be delayed until the 1st of January 1825,147 presenting his reservations.148 For him the planned savings, which basically meant cuts, would inevitably lead to the destruction of his institution. A reduction of posts for senior officers had to lead to a situation where junior officers would want to leave the General Staff and for others a signal not to seek promotion through that institution. Müffling realised that it would be necessary to apply special means in order to attract officers to serve in the gs. He was also aware that in no European army were officers forced to serve in the general staff, and instead conditions were created to make such a service attractive. He, therefore, 146 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A10, Müffling, Untitled document, 9–10. 147 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Müffling to Hake, Berlin, 11th Oct 1824, 145. 148 Ibid., Abschrift: Der Anlagen von der Hand des Generals v. Müffling zu den Schreiben an den Kriegsminister v. 11th Oct 1824, 146–154v.

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c­ onsidered it vital to retain the already existing incentives of gs service.149 According to new posting rules, service in the gs was to be equal to that of battalion commander or senior officer. However, it was easier for a battalion commander to be promoted to a regiment commander. Little fresh blood could be expected in the gs, as too few posts for officers above the rank lieutenant were available. Likewise, high-ranking officers during combat would do better to serve in the line in search of career advancement, while lower ranking officers would be less competent in carrying out necessary tasks, which would have a detrimental effect on the entire army. What is more, being dispersed in isolated division garrisons would not be conducive to young lieutenants to take up studies. Here, Müffling felt the remedy would be for junior officers to be put under the guidance of the chiefs of gs of army corps, and, hence, the demand for junior officers to be stationed in army corps headquarters. Müffling had doubts whether a young major would be able to cope with the post of chief of general staff of army corps in wartime. It became obvious that the old system was superior to the proposed one. However, since the state was forced to make savings, the General Staff had to be subjected to the same regime as the rest of the army. For this reason Müffling proposed maintaining a core staff in peacetime, which would be increased only with the outbreak of war. He believed that in peacetime the gs could hold on to as many high-ranking officers as possible, but reduce the number of posts less important posts. It was necessary, however, to train junior officers who would join the gs staff in the event of war. In this spirit he proposed the reduction of tgs officers in the divisions. The Prussian monarch familiarised himself with his advisor’s desiderata within a month.150 His response did not satisfy the Chief of the General Staff of the Army. Frederick William iii supported the proposed changes. Moreover, the king decreed that gs officers should no longer be assigned to divisions during peacetime. Instead they should be assigned to army corps headquarters, and Müffling should ensure that the best candidates were recruited and should be assigned to line units to command units during exercises. Attached was a new posting list for the gs.151 In the ggs there was now to be a Lt Gen. as the chief, three senior officers as the chiefs of the three Kriegstheater, an officer as 149 Applying to General Staff in that period, Wilhelm von Rahden stated the post would provide a feeling of belonging to an elite group of officers, a chance to participate in foreign and diplomatic missions, visit various parts of the world and broaden one’s horizons through travel, military parades and manoeuvres; W. von Rahden, Wanderungen eines alten Soldaten, part 2 (Berlin, 1847), 57. 150 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Copy of the ako of King Frederick William iii, Berlin, 11th November 1824, 160. 151 Ibid., Etat für den General-Staab, Berlin, 11th November 1824, 161.

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the archive head and to serve in the Ministry of War, as well as three senior officers and nine captains or lieutenants to serve in the section and carry out special assignments. In the tgs there were to be nine senior officers as chiefs of the general staff of the army corps, one senior officer in Artillery Inspection, as well as nine senior officers and nine captains or lieutenants to serve in the general staff of the army corps. The rank and number were considerably reduced. The staffing decree was to come into force on the 1st of January 1825.152 The entire situation caused negative repercussions and tensions between members of the supreme Prussian military authorities. Müffling’s arguments had not been accepted, the role of the General Staff had been diminished, and his new position did not allow him to participate in meetings. In order not to violate principles of obedience, Müffling sent the king a letter on the 15th of October 1824 requesting that he be transferred to the line.153 The request was naturally turned down, but Müffling would not let the matter go. He resorted to bypassing official channels of communication via the Ministry and on the 20th of November sent his reservations directly to the king.154 The Pro Memoria letter155 repeated most of the arguments of his previous letters. The General Staff should not be degraded in the military hierarchy, its usefulness should deserve the same status as other units. The staffing, in addition to the Chief of the General Staff of the Army, of only four senior officers and one for the archive and Kriegsministerium was far from sufficient. In the event of war, this would cause a shortage of officers. In search of promotions, the captains in the gs would join the army ranks and thus the entire system of training of personnel would collapse. Müffling stubbornly defended his position, arguing that it was essential to unify the peacetime and wartime structures.156 Despite the merits of the case, the matter took on personal dimensions. In a rather personal tone, Hake wrote to Müffling, criticising him for sending his counterproposals concerning the General Staff’s postings directly to the king. He reminded Müffling that his intention for the gs corps were ultimately under his command. It order to facilitate change, he proposed that Müffling present his 152 Ibid., Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 19th November 1824, 163–166v. 153 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A10, Müffling, Untitled document. Clausewitz wrote to Gneisenau about rumours that Müffling was to be transferred to the Rhineland kg in association with the death of its commander General Thielmann; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 25. Oktober 1824’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 467. 154 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Müffling to Frederick William iii, Berlin, 20th November 1824, 168. 155 Ibid., First draft of Müffling’s Pro Memoria, Berlin, 20th November 1824, 169–171; ibid., Second draft of Müffling’s Pro Memoria, Berlin, 20th November 1824, 172–173. 156 Ibid., Untitled note, s.l., s.t., 174–176.

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proposals to the commission. After analysing differences of opinion, Hake concluded that the commission’s version of postings should be confirmed. He also communicated that he had acquired information from Witzleben that for the king the matter was already decided.157 Witzleben also admonished the Chief of the General Staff of the Army, stating that having reviewed his desiderata he forwarded them to the minister of war, who ordered him to write a report to the king. Witzleben have done exactly the same even if Müffling had directed his letter through the proper channel. The director of the 3rd Department intended to present the matter to the king as a misunderstanding, hoping there was a chance that the decision regarding staffing could be changed. He nevertheless urged Müffling to follow standard procedures in the future and to work for an atmosphere of mutual trust.158 Discussion of the problem continued almost until to the end of the year.159 Finally, in December 1824, the changes were instituted in accordance with the ako of the 31st of August 1824.160 The affair was a defeat for Müffling, who had failed to hold on to his staff. Twenty experienced officers had to leave the gs according to the new law. This affected, for instance, Generals Ernst von Pfuel and Reiche, who were directed to serve in the Landwehr and fortification construction in Lauenburg.161 Müffling’s limited possibilities of influencing the king, who discussed issues with the Hake-Witzleben duo, evidently required contacts with the monarch to be conducted through formal channels. Despite declarations of goodwill from the minister of war, the position of the General Staff had clearly been diminished. Müffling was irritated by having to shed posts, while at the same time Prince William was nominated for a kg post.162 In his opinion, the prince was still young and in an army that was no longer as large as it had been in 1806, and in a climate of austerity, new appointments should be considered carefully. The fact of a royal declaration that the prince would not be remunerated was not convincing. Müffling noted that the king’s son was blocking a post and its 157 Ibid., Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 20th November 1824, 167. 158 Ibid., Witzleben to Müffling, Berlin, 23rd November 1824, 177–178v. 159 Ibid., Witzleben to Müffling, Berlin, 26th November 1824, 179; ibid., Müffling to Hake, 7th December 1824, 180-182v; ibid., Generalstab am 1. Januar 1825 ab., [7th December 1824], 183; ibid., Gehaltsverhältnisse nach dem neuen Etat, [7th December 1824], 184; ibid., Copy of the ako of Frederick William iii, Berlin, 12th December 1824, 185; ibid., Witzleben to Müffling, Berlin, 14th December 1824, 186–187; ibid., Müffling’s memorandum to Frederick William iii with attachments 1, 2, 3 (draft), Berlin, 7th December 1824, 188–191. 160 Ibid., Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 18th December 1824, 193–195v. 161 Ibid., Anlage 3: Versatzungen vom 1ten Januar 1825, 191. 162 Prince William, in the rank of Lieutenant General, was nominated commander of the iii Army Corps on 20th March 1824.

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r­ emuneration that could have influenced the career of a deserving officer.163 This was not the only loss of employment loss. Already on the 7th of October 1824, Hake informed Müffling that in the future the Ministry of War would comprise only two departments.164 Indeed, orders issued on the 31st of August 1824 and the 3rd of February 1825 ended distributions within the Ministry of War. The five Departments would again be merged into the Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement (akd) and Militärökonomiedepartement (möd), thus a complete withdrawal from the organisational concepts of Boyen. Individual Departments again became the branches of one of two organisational units. The akd consisted of three branches: the army, the artillery, and engineering. The möd comprised four branches: finances and postings; food, travel, and stabling; uniforms, armaments, and supply wagons; and medicine and military hospitals.165 The 3rd Department was directly subordinated to the minister of war as was the Branch for Personal Affairs at the Ministry of War (Abteilung für die persönlichen Anhelegenheiten im Kriegsministerium, A.f.d.p.A im Kr. M). Headed by Witzleben, in time this Ministry increased in significance.166 The situation required the complete dissolution of the 2nd Department, which was to be taken over by the gs. Hake drew attention to the fact that the post held by Gen. Rühle was to be liquidated, that the general had to be struck off the list of Ministry of War employees, although it was logical that a position for Rühle could be found within the General Staff. Hake hoped that Müffling would come to the same conclusion, and had so far only gently suggested the matter to him without raising it formally.167 This was an example of making an exception for a high-ranking and well-connect officer. In reply, an irritated Müffling reported that according to the postings of the 11th of November he did not have a position that was appropriate for the rank of Rühle. The General Staff no longer had a post for the Chief of the ggs or anything equivalent. Müffling also stated that he would not intervene in this matter with the king, and reminded Hake that his post did not entitle him to submit proposals to the monarch. Furthermore, he stated that Rühle had a number of other posts and did not lack the means to support himself. He was still willing to commission him work to be undertaken, as before, but was sceptical about the possibility of opening a vacancy.168 The protest was in vain, because in accordance with the ako of the 25th of February 1825 Rühle received the post of ‘officer of the 163 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A10, Müffling, Untitled document, 11. 164 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 24th December 1824, 203. 165 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 124. 166 Schmidt-Bückeburg, Das Militärkabinett, 31. 167 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 24th December 1824, 203. 168 Ibid., Müffling to Hake, Berlin, 25th December 1824, 204.

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General Staff for matters of the Ministry of War’ and held on to his other posts,169 including the head of the Great General Staff.170 This represents a real manifestation of how the Prussian army was governed – it was more important for the king to employ the advisors he wanted than for a coherent system to work. Therefore, it was not surprising that when the ako of the 18th of June 1825 intimated the reduction of gs officers, the Chief of the General Staff of the Army reacted nervously,171 and once again handed in his resignation.172 There is no mention in Müffling’s memoirs how this particular dispute ended. Its reverberations, however, are well-known in the numerous references to his ­repeated attempts to return to the lines.173 According to Wohlers, changes in the Ministry began with the division of tasks concerning the maintenance of the army (Armeeverwaltung) and the use of the (Armeeverwendung), remits of the Ministry and the General Staff. Although the Chief of the General Staff of the Army was ostensibly independent, the minister of war had a decisive advantage over him.174 Much depended, however, on the personal relationship between the heads of the two institutions. As Ritter has rightly noted, the minister of war was perfectly entitled to regard the Chief of the General Staff of the Army as his assistant, who did not have Immediatvortragsrecht and therefore the right to communicate directly with the monarch.175 This factor greatly hindered the gs chief’s work.176 In this context, Clausewitz’s critical appraisal at the prospect of taking over as Chief of the General Staff of the Army after Müffling expressed deep reservations. According to his analysis, the chief of gs had more restrictions than possibilities for effective action, leading him to conclude that it was the job of an ‘ignored pauper’.177 169 Ibid., Copy of a copy of the ako of Frederick William iii, Berlin, 3rd February 1825, 208– 209. Cf. Meisner, Der Kriegsminister, 48 footnote 1; Wohlers, Die staatsrechtliche Stellung, 25. 170 In this post he appeared for the last in the Rangliste in 1835; Rang- und Quartier-Liste der Königlich Preußischen Armee für das Jahr 1835 (Berlin, 1835), 21. 171 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Müffling to Frederick William iii (draft), Berlin, 15th ­November 1825, 220–224. 172 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A10, Müffling, Untitled document, 12. 173 Behr, ‘Lebensbild’, 20. 174 Wohlers, Die staatsrechtliche Stellung, 25; On the significance of these concepts in the legal sense: F. Freiherr Marschall von Bieberstein, Verantwortlichkeit und Gegenzeichnung bei Anordnungen des Obersten Kriegsherren. Studien zum deutschen Staatsrecht (Berlin, 1911), 52–83. 175 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 219. 176 Cf. BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 33. 177 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 25. Oktober 1824’, 467.

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Müffling’s complicated situation is shown in the case of the withdrawal of tgs officers from the divisions. The ako of the 18th of December 1824 was sent directly to the Generalkommandos. In accordance with his received instructions, Müffling ordered the gs officers to withdraw. This was met with the resistance of Zieten, who demanded an official ruling regarding this matter. This initiated a sequence of procedural steps. Through official channels, the chief of General Staff of the vi Army Corps reported to Müffling Zieten’s objections, and in response, Müffling ordered for Zieten to be informed through official channels of the source of the ruling. The general, nevertheless, turned to the Ministry with a request to be sent the ako. Hake confirmed the existence of the ruling and ordered its implementation, promising that Müffling would write him a letter concerning the matter. This the chief duly did, indicating how the prestige of the Chief of the General Staff of the Army had fallen and ending the ‘competence dispute’.178 Another symptom of this decline was the conflict with Gen. Röder, who at the start of 1826 demanded that his gs officer at v Army Corps to be replaced with a more useful adjutant. This highlighted the precedent started by Müffling in allowing for tgs officers to be withdrawn from divisions.179 The Posen Generalkommando commander, known for his rather mediocre intelligence,180 failed to convince Minister Hake, and therefore the crisis did not develop. A year later Müffling, again had reason to complain. A memorandum of the 5th of June 1827 stated that the Chief of the General Staff of the Army was obliged to point out possible faults in operations designs (Operations Entwürfe).181 Müffling had proposed appropriate steps concerning fortifications on the southern border of Prussia, but the minister of war did not implement them. This could perhaps be explained by delays in the fortification work schedule. Müffling, however, also felt obliged to protest against plans to build a new postal road from Berlin via Lusatia and Zittau to Vienna. Unfortunately, his resistance was not accepted by the Minister of Finance Hans von Bülow, who referred the matter to the minister of war. Müffling believed that the misunderstanding resulted from an inability to view the defence system of Prussia in its entirety. Bülow stated that he had not yet issued the order to build the road. The minister of war was informed on the 18th of November 1822. Müffling heard nothing more of the case until he received information that the king had approved construction of the road. In this situation, the gs chief allowed the 178 BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 33–34. 179 Ibid., 34–35. 180 Sommer, ‘Das Generalkomanndo’, 61. 181 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A11, Pro Memoria, Berlin, 5th June 1827, s.p.

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matter to be resolved by the monarch, but noted that he might not be receiving information on issues that were of key significance to the security of Prussia. Again this shows how weak the position of the Chief of the General Staff of the Army with regard to preparing the defence of the state in the 1820s was in relation to the minister.182 The neglect of his opinion violated the Chausse-Bauplan of the 10th of April 1817, according to which all fortress and road construction plans had to first be reviewed by the gs.183 On the contrary, in mid-1828 Müffling successfully stopped construction of a railway line that would have dangerously cut though fortresses in Wesel and Cologne-Deutz.184 In September 1828, procedures were introduced to prevent dangers resulting from the development of new communication routes,185 defining a number of tactical and technical details. Despite all, Müffling was trusted by the king for his contributions to raising the combat abilities of the army. The problem of the 1820s was the condition of the commanding staff. This was expressed by Prince William in a letter to Natzmer of the 1st of April 1825, in which he repeated his concerns regarding the results of prolonged peace. In his opinion, that the Prussian army had not fought in a decade had a negative effect on its combat readiness.186 Two months later, the prince presented his appraisal of commanding officers. He believed that the army had too many infantry and cavalry generals and too many lieutenant generals, but lacked major generals. He was particularly concerned by the exceptional fluidity in regimental command positions. Prince William was in favour of a review of commanding posts in the corps and divisions.187 His proposals by mid-December consisted of a list of officers he would nominate as commanders in the event of war. Although he admitted himself that it was fantasy, if it depended on Prince William positions as corps commanders would have been retained by the Duke of Mecklenburg, the Crown Prince, Lt Gen. Gottlieb von Jagow188 (kg in Saxony since 1821), and Prince 182 On this subject also see: K.-J. Bremm, Von der Chaussee zur Schiene Militärstrategie und Eisenbahnen in Preußen von 1833 bis zum Feldzug von 1866 (Munich, 2005), 44–45. 183 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit zu einer Zusammenstellung der gegenwärtigen, dienstlichen Verhältnisse des König.-Preußischen Generalstabes 1830. Nach den Bestimmungen, und den bestehenden Gange und Geschäfte, auf Befehl entwerfen von dem Major von Staff, 39v. 184 Brose, The Politics, 212. 185 ‘Regulativ über die Verfahren bei baulichen Anlagen oder sonstigen Veränderungen der Erdoberfläche innerhalb der nächsten Umgebung der Festungen. Vom 10ten September 1828’, Gesetz-Sammlung (Berlin, 1828), 120–130. 186 Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 1, 141. 187 Ibid., 142. 188 On the personality of Jagow; Rahden, Wanderungen, 177–178.

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William himself. The prince saw remaining commanders as organisers of reserves in the provinces.189 Natzmer also invoked Borstell and Zieten.190 Müffling had a generally negative view of the commanders. The problem, in his opinion, stemmed from the Frederickian education that most of the generals had received. Frederick the Great, like Napoleon, held exclusivity in solving strategic problems. His generals could only hope to be tacticians at best, a factor that affected their intellectual horizons.191 Strenuous efforts to raise the level of military training had not brought results. According to a decree of the 30th of December 1820, each army corps was to carry out weapons exercises lasting four weeks – 14 days evolutions training and another 14 days of actual manoeuvres in the field. On the 22nd of May 1822, the evolution exercises in each corps became limited to seven days. The remaining days were spent on corps manoeuvres and field manoeuvres. The ‘Instruction for major army manoeuvres’ was issued on the 3rd of June 1825.192 It distinguished three types of exercises. The first were manoeuvres on the division, brigade, and corps level, involving evolutions and weapons exercises regardless of terrain. The second type were ‘manoeuvres in the broader sense’ (im ausgedehnteren Sinne), which essentially meant the application of tactics in the field. Finally, there were proper field manoeuvres, carried out with troops divided into two opposing sides.193 The most important of these exercises were manoeuvres conducted outside Berlin, with the participation of the king and two or three corps he selected.194 A positive appraisal of the Übungsreisen conducted in the General Staff inclined Frederick William iii to grant Müffling the right to submit for his approval draft instructions im ausgedehnteren Sinne and corps manoeuvres. According to the gs chief, this was fundamental because it gave the possibility of uniformly defining principles of offensive and defensive actions on the strategic level. Müffling noted this as a difficult task, for certain kgs had become accustomed to independently determining rules for their corps to follow. Many of the generals who were considered experienced, especially the Duke of Mecklenburg, Borstell, and Zieten, could not get used to receiving instructions from a person who they considered had no achievements in higher command. A lack of practical experience of engaging in war, at least on the corps level, did not give them reason to believe that Müffling had a better understanding of 189 Remaining figures include the king’s brother William, Prince Augustus, Prince Frederick and generals Gustav von Ryssel i and Brause; Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 1, 144. 190 Ibid., 145. 191 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 268. 192 Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 5 (Hamburg, 1938), 12–13. 193 Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 161. 194 Ibid., 162.

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the art of war than they did.195 This was a conflict between the conviction of an older generation of officers that strategic command was the preserve of a single commander, presumably talented and experienced, and the philosophy of Müffling, according to whom commanding an army in modern warfare was too complicated to be entrusted to any one person. According to Müffling, modern warfare required a new type of officer who was prepared for the position of a commander by having serving as a staff officer.196 Although Hake and Witzleben agreed with the Chief of the General Staff of the Army, they did not see any chance of the senior commanders changing their minds. Instead, they proposed having behaviour judged by the king, whose authority all the generals respected. Müffling eventually received the right to draft dispositions for manoeuvres with the participation of the king, and, together with two other officers, to write reports and critical comments on how they were carried out, which, if they received the king’s approval, were next sent on to the higher commanders and down to the regimental command level. This rule, however, did not apply in the case of manoeuvres involving corps commanders, who retained full control. As kgs, they gave dispositions, playing the roles of allies and arbiters and writing reports about them.197 According to Priesdorff, Müffling became a member of the committee in charge of organising manoeuvres on the 18th of January 1823. Other members included Rühle and Clausewitz. That same year, the Chief of the General Staff of the Army for the first time presented tasks during manoeuvres and was their arbiter.198 Clearly that the rights of the chief of the General of Staff with regard to corps commanders could only be realised when it was in accordance with the king’s will.199 Nevertheless, thanks to this royal support, Müffling gained influence on the standing army training programme and the possibility of uniting doctrines coherently in the event of war. The trust shown by the monarch made it possible that in the event of armed conflict, the gs chief would be his principal advisor. Nevertheless, it seems that, contrary to Müffling’s intentions, all exercises were of a 195 196 197 198

Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 267–268. Ibid., 268. Ibid., 267–270. ‘Philipp Friedrich Karl Ferdinand von Müffling gen. Weiß’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4, 315. 199 This is clearly seen in the gs proposed modification of the vi Army Corps 1824 parade plan. The vi Corps commander Zieten personally planned all the details and quite ignored Reyher. Reyher, in turn, had a number of reservations with regard to his superior’s ideas and referred the matter to Müffling. The gs chief used his right to make orders regarding the manoeuvres with the king’s participation and changed Zieten’s concepts. However, if the monarch had not been involved in the manoeuvres, all protests from gs officers would have been futile; Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 48–51.

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t­ actical nature, as is testified by extant reports200 and accounts.201 In the provinces, generals retained full control and it was only with their consent that Müffling’s solutions could be applied. In such conditions, one could not speak of doctrinal unity. This situation proves that the official structure of military authority did not truly reflect the roles given officials in formulating strategic concepts. The extent to which individuals were responsible was decided by the monarch, including persons holding key positions, such as Witzleben, Hake, Prince Augustus, Müffling, Rauch, as well as army corps commanders, especially the Duke of Mecklenburg, Prince William, and Borstell. Side-lined idividuals, such as Gneisenau, Boyen, and Grolman, were still considered by Frederick William iii as able to play significant roles in the event of an armed conflict. According to Treitschke, Gneisenau and Grolman were the only persons able to take up higher command posts if it came to war.202 It is hard to say whether Gneisenau was actually side-lined in the years 1816–1830. On the 9th of September 1818, the king nominated him as Governor of Berlin, on the 24th of April 1819, he became chairman of the Higher Military Examination Commission for officers, and on the 18th of June 1825, on the 10th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, he was promoted to the rank of Field Marshal. With this assignment, Gneisenau was nominated to become a member of the Council of State, where he dealt with foreign affairs and military matters.203 Gneisenau’s new position aroused fears of conservatives and of their backer Metternich.204 Though the positions granted to Gneisenau did not match his considerable talents and ambition, the king, despite mistrust and differences of character, was attempting to retain control over his most talented commander. Among the troops, the common belief was that in the event of war he would again lead the army.205 200 E.g. GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii Db 24, Manöver im Weichsel-Odergebiet, s.t., s.p.; ibid., No. i Cb 4, Inspektionsreise und Herbstübungen 1819, s.p.; ibid., No. ii Db 3, Herbstübungen des i. ii, v., v, und des Gardekorps und der VII. Division iv. und der vi. Division iii. Korps. Im Herbst, 1824, s.p.; ibid., No. i Cb 5, Herbstübung, 1821, s.p.; ibid, No. i Cb 3, Das von von Roeder durchgeführte Manöver vom 7. ix 1819, intus: Korrespondenz mit F. Roeder, v. Müffling, 1819, s.p. 201 Eg. Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 1, 173–194; Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 48–51; ‘An Clausewitz, Erdmannsdorf den 29. August 1826’, Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 5, 527; ‘An Clausewitz, Erdmannsdorf den 11. October 1828’, ibid., 554–555; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 29. September 1828’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 538–540. 202 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 423. 203 Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 5, 35–36. 204 Ibid., 36–39. 205 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 11; ‘An Clausewitz, Erdmannsdorf den 9. September 1820’, Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 5, 440–442.

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The career of Grolman took a similar course, even though he had requested resignation, which caused royal displeasure and criticism from many officers. Despite his anti-monarchist reputation, he was greatly valued as a professional.206 It required protracted efforts of Prince Augustus and Witzleben, as well as an official apology, to incline Grolman in 1825 to return to the army and take up command of the 9th Division in Glogau,207 which Brose interpreted as an attempt to remove a potential troublemaker from the capital.208 It seems that Frederick William iii valued him in military matters more than the ailing Minister of War Hake and, despite political differences, kept him in reserve throughout the 1820s in case of war. The posting in Glogau resulted from a vacancy. It was, however, a town with transport connections to Berlin, so not necessarily a form of exile. Moreover, the command of a division provided an opportunity for promotion, and, in the event of war, an important command position. Grolman had always presented himself brilliantly in manoeuvres.209 A leading role was played by Witzleben in this matter. Commenting on it, Clausewitz admitted that he felt worried about Witzleben’s influence on the monarch.210 Witzleben was seen to have played a leading role in the 1829 dismissal of Müffling, whom he wanted replaced by the liberal Wilhelm von Krauseneck.211 Clausewitz believed that Müffling’s transferral to Westphalia was not voluntarily but rather the result of an offer he could not refuse.212 There was rivalry between factions within the Prussian army in the late 1820s, which makes it difficult to determine any catalogue of royal advisors. All individuals had to be ready at any moment to carry out the monarch’s instructions concerning not only military matters, but also tasks in the realms of politics or diplomacy, best demonstrated by the missions of Müffling during the Congress of Aachen and the Russo-Turkish War. The structure of the supreme military authorities underwent considerable transformations in the years 1815–1830. The most characteristic feature was its lack of consistency, resulting from factional infighting leading to eclectic ­concepts. Constant reorganisations, caused by the aspirations of Frederick 206 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 79–80. 207 Ibid., 87–101. 208 Brose, The Politics, 76. 209 Cf. Gneisenau’s appraisal of Grolman’s qualities as a commander during the grand manoeuvres of 1828; Rahden, Wanderungen, 167–169. 210 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 5. November 1825’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 484. 211 Brose, The Politics, 77–78. 212 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 20. Dezember 1829’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 572–573.

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William iii and financial requirements, eventually led to the emergence of a complicated command structure based on personal connections with the monarch, which considerably hindered the development of uniform views on the art of war and coherent war planning. The Prussian ruler had rebuilt his authority over the army, ensuring that he would have a decisive say in all matters that concerned it. Unlike the 18th century, however, several institutions were conducting studies into defence in a way that significantly influenced the development of strategic thought.

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Defence Planning in Prussia in the Years 1815–1830 According to a well-known story, when in 1870 Helmuth von Moltke the Elder was woken with the news that war with France had broken out, he was simply to say that the operational plan was in the third drawer from the top, after which he went back to sleep. This anecdote and others perfectly reflects the stereotypical image of how the Prussian General Staff functioned in the field of planning. It has often been said that modern European history has produced four exemplary institutions: the British House of Lords, the Prussian General Staff, the French Academy, and the Vatican.1 Including the Prussian General Staff among them is hardly surprising. The legendary effectiveness of the staff officers was successively mythologised, especially after 1871, occasionally blurring the chronology of developments. An anecdote became famous, in which Field Marshal Gebhard von Blücher, taking up a wager that he could kiss his own head, proceeded to embrace his own Chief of Staff August Neidhardt von Gneisenau.2 This story was soon perceived to mark the start of the tradition of the co-commanders, where the chief of staff held the dominant position as far as planning was concerned. On the other hand, there is also a contrary myth based on the question ‘Who exactly is General Moltke?’ supposedly asked by the commander of the 6th Division General Gustav von Manstein during the Battle of Königgrätz.3 The falseness of this allusion to the theoretical insignificance of the General Staff before the appearance of Moltke’s Deus ex Machina has been convincingly analysed by Dierk Walter,4 proving at the same time the need for a thorough study of this issue before 1857. The decision as to who would be responsible for all or part of the Prussian armed forces in the event of the outbreak of war naturally rested with the king. As Ritter stated, even given the existence of a number of institutions, even in peacetime there was no supreme commander other than the king. 1 Carl Schmitt and Jürgen Hebermas described those institutions as ‘four remainigs pillars of tradition’ or ‘last pillars of representation’; J. Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry Into a Category of Bourgeois Society, trans. T. Burger (Cambridge. Massachusetts, 1991), 8; C. Schmitt, Römischer Katholizismus und politische Form (MunichRome, 1925), 32. 2 Leben und Thaten des Königlichen Preußischen General-Feldmarschalls Fürsten Blücher von Wahlstatt, ed. L. von Wallendrodt (Stettin, 1831), 37. 3 Görlitz, Der deutsche Generalstab, 113. 4 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 83–87.

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S­ ubordination to the Ministry of War was a fiction in a system where the king directed the army in a personal maner and considered subordinate officers to be subjects in his entourage (Gefolgschaft). The monarch’s ‘Kommandogewalt’ oversaw commanding and managing troops, between which there was no clear distinction. According to Ritter, the monarch’s seven peacetime prerogatives included personal matters, officer nominations, promotions and dismissals, the awarding of orders and decorations, issuing orders to the army, regulation of military ceremonies, the question of military uniforms, and provisions for courts of honour and oversight of court cases.5 He determined the scope of responsibilities and rights of particular institutions. Entities conducting studies into state defence were located both centrally and in the provinces. Therefore, the presentation of instructions and regulations, taking into account the practice that existed in the Prussian army, does not provide a complete picture of defence planning, nor strategy on the institutional level. In the years 1815–1819, the primary institution responsible for the defence of the Kingdom of Prussia was the Ministry of War. The unit responsible for studies into the preparation for war was the 2nd Department, directed by Grolman. His project of October 1814 for the function of the General Staff, subordinate to him, shows the tasks that institution faced.6 In the general sense, it was a continuation of the precepts set out in the instructions of the 23rd of November 1803, according to which the gs was to help commanders in making and issuing decisions, making the decisions of their commanders more effective.7 Grolman commented that the gs’s basic task was to serve as the army’s research centre, staffed by experienced officers who were to investigate in peacetime issues that would be important in a time of war. A major focus was to determine, as accurately as possible, the potentials of one’s own country and of its neighbours. Grolman considered his Department to be the centre for gathering all information on the subject, noting that in the provinces there was materials that of local significance. The information was to include maps and descriptions of the country. Grolman believed that instructions and plans should be preliminary but based on an accurate identification of the theatre of war (Kriegstheater). They should include both offensive and defensive variants. Grolman stipulated that operation plans created years in advance during peacetime to be foolish.8 He viewed the preparations for war, first and f­ oremost, 5 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 219–220. 6 ‘Eigenhändiger Entwurf Grolmans zu der Einrichtung eines Generalstabes vom Oktober 1814’, Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 2: Die Befreiungskriege 1813 bis 1815, appendix v, 390–394. 7 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit, 36. 8 ‘Die Vorbereitungen sowohl für die Offensive als Defensive müssen getroffen sein; darauf aber muß sich das ganze beschränken; einen Operationsplan aus der Stube auf Jahre hinaus

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a description of the various conditions that could affect the course of a campaign. Detailed plans should be made only when circumstances required it, as demonstrated by Grolman’s operation design towards the end of 1814 when faced by a possible conflict between France and Austria on one side and Prussia and Russia on the other.9 This is apparent in an instruction Grolman issued as head of the 2nd Department on the 31st of January 1816, in which he determined the internal structure of the Department and the division of responsibilities between various units.10 The chief task was to collect all information and materials essential for the preparation and conduct of war, to be achieved using all available sources (archives, books, periodicals, maps), including the reconnaissance of officers as well as information provided by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The staff was to collect information regarding the country’s provinces and those of its neighbours, as well as the state of the armed forces on both sides. Grolman perceived his department as a centre for analysis and its internal structure adapted for that purpose. As in 1803,11 it comprised three sections, so-called western, central, and eastern theatres of war (Kriegstheater), which corresponded to possible threats from France, Austria, and Russia.12 Each section had its own chief and two or three officers. The chiefs, in respective order, were Lt Col. Leo von Lützow, Maj. von Arnauld, and Col. Ernst von Pfuel. The Abteilung für Kriegsgeschichte had a separate status directed by Col. Rühle von Lilienstern, whose assistant was Capt. August Wagner. Another unit was the Abteilung für Aufnahmen. The section chiefs were responsible for their subordinate officers’ work, and were obliged to submit daily reports to Grolman. Annualy, they presented a report, from which the director of the 2nd

9 10 11 12

zu entwerfen, ist Torheit und gehört zu den militärischen Romanen!’, ‘Eigenhändiger ­ ntwurf Grolmans’, 393. E ‘Grolmans Entwurf einer anderen Aufstellung der Armee’, ibid., appendix via, 395–398; ‘(Auszug.) Operationsentwurf’, ibid., appendix vib, 399–400. ‘Feststellung der Eintheilung und der Arbeiten beim 2. Departement der Kriegsminsterii’, ibid., part 3, appendix 1, 263–266. BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 5v–6. The eastern section included: East and West Prussia, Pomerania, Neumark, Posen and Silesia as well as Polish territories, Russia, Galicia, the Free City of Cracow, Hungary, Transylvania, Dalmatia, Turkey, Sweden and Norway. The central theatre of war included: Prussian Kurmark, Saxony and Thuringia as well as the Kingdom of Saxony as well as the Thuringian and Saxon states, Bohemia, Moravia, Austrian Silesia, Bavaria, Hanover with the exception of Osnabrück, eastern Friesland and Meppen, Brunswick, Mecklenburg, Denmark and Italy. The western section included: Prussian Westphalia, Rhineland, Fulda and Neuchâtel, as well as the territories of Osnabrück, eastern Friesland, Oldenburg, Waldeck, Lippe, Hesse-Kassel, Hesse-Darmstadt, Nassau, Württemberg, Baden, Switzeland, France, The Netherlands, Britain, Spain and Portugal; ‘Feststellung der Eintheilung’, 264–265.

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Department was to prepare a general memorandum for the king and minister of war. Work in the institution was constant, with officers meeting in the Ordenpalais each day (apart from Sunday) between 8:00 and 13:00. Grolman’s record of the 24th of December 181913 did not introduce any major changes to the Department, apart from announcing the raising of the rank of the Abteilung für Kriegsgeschichte to section status. The regulations naturally concerned the central office in Berlin. In addition to this, Grolman was in charge of officers attached to line units. On the 20th of June 1817, the distinction had been made between officers in the Great General Staff (ggs) and General Staff officers serving in the headquarters of standing army units.14 The officers in the army units served as information gathers. An example of how the gs functioned is illustrated in an instruction of the 29th of April 1816 concerning the work of officers in summer months.15 It defined the way in which the director of the 2nd Department allocated to each officer specific tasks to be carried out in a specific territory within a specific timeframe, normally four months for ggs officers and one month for remaining officers. The work was divided into the categories of special reconnaissance and general terrain descriptions. The reconnaissance involved measurements and a description of the terrain, taking into account its tactical qualities, taking into account manoeuvers between armies with equal numbers or a defensive war involving a part of the army supported by the Landsturm. The second case was to involve a corps of 20–30,000 troops supported by reserves. This involved a precise description of conditions, material and non-material factors, and a determination of so-called support points (Stützpunkte). Descriptions were provided in two copies to be kept in General Staff Archive and in the Generalkommandos archives. Reconnaissance was not intended as guidelines for action, but rather as an element in educating officers to assess situations during a campaign. For this reason, only one copy was prepared and kept the Department. The instruction demonstrates how each gs officer was to serve his commander by providing complete and detailed information.16 This was a manifestation of the war planning methodology promoted by Boyen and Grolman. 13 BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 35v–38. 14 Ibid., 35. 15 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 292, Instruction für die practischen Arbeiten welche die Offiziere des General-Staabes in den Sommer-Monaten vorzunehmen haben, Berlin, 29th April 1816, 46–49. 16 Some information regarding assigned staff rides in the years 1816–1819 has survived; lah Koblenz, Bestand 402, Sachakte 553, Extrait aus dem Disposition für die Reise des Westlicher Kriegs-Theater, s.l., 1st May 1816, 53; Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 32–34; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 27. Dezember 1816’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1,

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Grolman had presented in guidelines for the 2nd Department the need to create orders adapted to specific theatres of war. In his memorandum of May 1817,17 Grolman divided war plans into those defensive (Vertheidigungsplan) and those operational (Operationsplan). The first, replacing the Operationsplan from the instruction of 1803,18 resulted from geographic, political, and domestic factors, generally defined as essential regardless of the actual circumstances. It concerned the preparation of armed forces (the standing army, Landwehr, and Landsturm) and the means to support them (maintenance of fortresses and supplies). Grolman saw this as a primary matter of maintaining universal military service, which he considered to be a guarantee of state security. Operational plans were to be created after an outbreak of war and should describe how achieve the objectives.19 The range of studies the gs officers conducted above all concerned conditions for defensive actions. The circumstances in which this document emerged illustrates well the nature and process of defence, as well as the overlapping tasks of the General Staff and the Engineers and Pioneers Corps. The system of fortresses and fortifications was an important element in this undertaking. Already on the 11th of March 1815, Frederick William iii issued an order concerning the financing of fortification works on the western border. Rauch was put in charge and on the 20th of March he issued instructions to his officers.20 That same day Boyen held a conference with Gneisenau, Rauch, and Schöler, which determined the work to be carried out the appointment of a committee. Works were temporarily interrupted following Napoleon’s escape from Elba, but resumed after the Battle of Waterloo. Although the tasks were hindered by financial difficulties, on the 30th of May 1816, Frederick William iii ordered a general reconnaissance (allgemeine Rekognoszierung) of the kingdom’s territories with regard to 240–241. A certain indication of how these tasks were carried out is also found in the tables of ggs files ggs: BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 59–72v. 17 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 138–146; Bremm, Von der Chaussee, 29; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 39–49; S. Hartmann, ‘Bemerkungen der preußischen Generale Karl Wilhelm Georg von Grolman und Karl Heinrich Ludwig von Borstell zu Verteidigungsmöglichkeiten der Provinzen Ost- und Westpreußen’, Preußenland (1990), 22–26. At least several copies of the memorandum can be found in the Dahlem Archive, which confirms its readership and significance; e. g. GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 2–22; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Verteidigung der Länder, 2–25. 18 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit, 39. 19 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 1–3. 20 ‘Allgemeine Vorschriften und Bemerkungen für die Anfertigung der Projekte und die Ausführung der Befestigungarbeiten’, Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, appendix 55, 292–294.

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defence with particular attention to be given to the state of the fortresses.21 The task was entrusted to Rauch and Grolman. The former was to inspect areas to the west of the Elbe, including Stralsund and Spandau; Grolman was responsible for territories to the east, in the Order and Vistula basins. Boyen issued detailed instructions to both generals and confirmed that the state of fortifications was a primary concern.22 Accurate records of their inspections have survived. A portion of the report from Grolman’s Silesian stage is now at sbb,23 along with some of his and other officer’s correspondence.24 Grolman provides accounts of inspections in Lähn (Wleń), Bolkenhain (Bolków), Schweinhaus (Świny), Leubus (Lubiąż), Schweidnitz, Ohlau (Oława), Brieg (Brzeg), and Glogau. The general must also have visited Glatz. From what remains of the ggs Dahlem archive, there are copies of excerpted reports from other parts of Grolman’s mission. The first concerns a description of territories in the Oder valley to the north of Glogau, towards Posen along the Warthe river up to Peisern (Pyzdry), then along the river Prosna to Słupca, the section between Nakło and Powidz Lakes up to territories around Bromberg and Thorn, as well as that of accompanying cities.25 A second excerpt concerns Grolman’s inspection of East Prussia in 1817. It includes descriptions of the Vistula basin around Kulm (Chełmno), Allenstein (Olsztyn), the Drewenz (Drwęca) river border line, the Lyck (Ełk) area and the Great Lakes region, as well as the defence system around Königsberg.26 Rauch regularly reported to Boyen during the course of this inspections, as he had announced he would.27 He started his inspection from Stralsund, then via Güstrow, Wittstock, and Havelberg to Magdeburg.28 He continued through Lippstadt, Brunswick, and Hanover to Minden, and

21 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 36. 22 An unsigned draft of the instruction is found in Boyen’s legacy; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 334, Instruktion für den General v. Grolman über die Befestigung der östlichen Provinzen [draft], s.l., 1816; ibid., No. 336, Instruktion für den General v. Rauch über die Befestigung der westlichen Provinzen des preußischen Staates [draft], s.l., 29th March or May 1816. 23 sbb pk, pdk, xxxiii Schlesien, No. 126, Grolman: Bemerkungen über die Schloesser, s.p. 24 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Grolman to Boyen, Glogau, 2nd July 1816, 3–4; ibid., Valentini to Boyen, Glogau, 18th September 1816, 7; ibid., No. 332, Grawert to Boyen, Glatz, 18th January 1816, 101–103; ibid., v. Liebenroth: Bemerkungen zur Niederschrift des Generals v. Grolman anläßlich der Bereisung der Festungen Breslau, Schweidnitz und Glogau, Berlin, 26th and 30th July 1816, 109–111; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 36–39. 25 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Reise Bericht 1816, Kulm, 21st July 1816, 26–41. 26 Ibid., Bemerkungen über Ost-Preussen, s.l., 1817, 42–72. 27 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Stralsund, 9th July 1816, 25. 28 Ibid., 26v.

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from there, via Bielefeld and Münster, to Wesel.29 His next inspection was the Rhine, reaching Cologne, accompanied by Hake, Jüllich, Aachen, and Düsseldorf. Through Bonn he reached Koblenz, continued the inspection in Mainz, Saarlouis, Thionville, and Longwy (and Sedan), returning via Trier to Koblenz for the next part of his journey.30 After a respite, he intended to return to Berlin along a route that took him through Kassel, Erfurt, Merseburg, Torgau, and Wittenberg, taking the advantage to also inspect Luckau.31 The reconnaissance displayed the authority of the Prussian monarch, as would be inspected by two esteemed officers, not because of their institutions or their positions, but because the king personally trusted them. The order neither involved the General Staff (or three Kriegstheater sections) nor the Engineers and Pioneers Corps (three Brigades), but divided inspection zones for the two generals according to a quite different concept. A major role was played by Boyen, who determined the inspection priorities and criteria. Whether Boyen was the initiator of the process is speculation, but officially the report of the two generals was that of the king. Grolman presented his report on the 22nd of May 1817. Copies reached many persons of authority (including Boyen), providing a key guideline for eastern defences but defence planning in general.32 Rauch had ­announced that he would write a Pro Memoria on the completion of the ­mission.33 It was probably written on the 9th of December 1816, but its content unfortunately is known only from a summary in a monograph by Bonin.34 Due to extant correspondence, one is able to assess the significance of the inspections carried out by the two generals. As controller of the budget, the Ministry of War was the most important decision maker in the process of fortifying the country. The visits, because they were carried out on the express orders of the monarch, aroused an immediate response from officers in the Engineers and Pioneers Corps and the kgs in the provinces. On the basis of Grolman’s appraisal they could receive funds for particular fortification works, in turn determining the combat potential of units stationed in the provinces. This is highlighted in a dispute over the assessment of Königsberg. Grolman believed that, being responsible for its fortress, Borstell was unnecessarily insisting on a concentration of forces in Sambia with Königsberg serving as their 29

Ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Magdeburg, 17th July 1816, 42; ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Cologne, 18th August 1816, 31. 30 Ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Cologne, 18th August 1816, 34. 31 Ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Mainz, 5th September 1816, 30v. 32 For some unknown reason Bonin considers it to have been a private initiative; Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 138–139. 33 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Stralsund, 9th July 1816, 25. 34 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 123–124.

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base, even though the city was unprepared for the defence.35 He, moreover, had failed to note the advantages of Lötzen (Giżycko), which was preferred by Grolman and Boyen.36 Grolman’s assessment of the Königsberg fortifications was also critical.37 Borstell received Grolman’s report about the Königsberg fortifications through his staff officer, Major Ludwig von Auer, and rejected its findings, considering the provincial capital to be essential for a concentration of the region’s Prussian forces. Borstell insisted that Grolman should let allow his alternative view be known to Boyen, with the hope that it would change the Ministry’s decision.38 The matter was serious, as the site affected the defence of the entire province. Appraisals of the defence capabilities of Königsberg favouring Borstell’s views were carried out by Auer and Karl von Liebenroth. Boyen took Borstell’s opinion into account but continued to support the province’s defence forces concentrating in Lötzen.39 The minister of war did make an effort for all points of view to be considered. Although Grolman had carried out an earlier reconnaissance in the years 1817–1818, an additional inspection of fortifications east of the Elbe was conducted by Rauch.40 Having followed its specific findings, Boyen had promoted the construction of arsenals as support points for local forces, and held a conference on this subject in December of 1817.41 From the account of Bonin, we also know that on the 20th of May 1818, Boyen held a conference on the defence of provinces to the east of the Oder, accepting most of Grolman’s conclusions, although a number of fortification works in the east were postponed until the next decade.42 Rauch’s mission was of a similar importance, though he encountered difficulties in its implementation. Reaching Münster, the general was outraged by commanding officer Thielmann’s complete lack of preparation to support him in his task. The Westphalian kg who was absent from his headquarters, later 35 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Grolman to Boyen, Königsberg, 7th November 1816, 2. 36 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No 55, Bemerkungen über Ost-Preussen, 54v-60; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Boyen to Borstell[?], Königsberg, s. t, 36–37. 37 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 12; ibid., No. 332, Bericht des Majors Auers vom Generalstabes über der Wälle um Königsberg im Pr. und die darauf entzwingende Vertheidigung Thätigkeiten, mit Bezugnahmen auf die umliegende Gegend, Königsberg, 24th November 1816, 22–31; ibid., Liebenroth: Einige Gedanken über dem Bericht der Gen. Lt. Borstell vom 3. te Sbr 1816 in Betracht einen künftigen Befestigung von Königsberg in Preußen, Berlin, 21st October 1816, 32–33. 38 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 6th October 1816, 34–35. 39 Ibid., Boyen to Borstell, Königsberg, s. t, 36–37. 40 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Glatz, 27th June 1817, 43; ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Königsberg, 16th June 1818, 47. 41 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 147. 42 Ibid., 141–142.

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demonstrated during a brief meeting that he had no thoughts whatsoever regarding fortifications in his province. Rauch also complained about cooperation with Rühle, who apparently had failed to provide him a list of works carried out by gs officers in the Rhineland,43 as a result of which he was able to only conduct courtesy talks with Maj. Friedrich von Brandenstein and Lt Wussow when met met by chance.44 The appraisal of Hake was quite different, despite him being engaged in detailed affairs of his Generalkommando he did manage to find time to accompany Rauch.45 His presence was considered indispensable. The activities of the two generals are reflected in one of Clausewitz’s letters of 1816. As chief of General Staff of the Rhineland Generalkommando he considered Rauch as the authority concerning fortifications. At the same time he indicated that Rauch had additional instructions regarding a defence plan and war preparations for the western Kriegstheater, but due to a lack of time he could not discuss them with Hake.46 It is difficult to determine whether Clausewitz had Boyen’s instructions in mind or some other guidelines. In any case, his role in the western provinces of the Kingdom of Prussia went far beyond the natter of fortifications and had a strong influence on how defence concepts were formed in these territories. Shortly before the evacuation of occupation forces form France, filled with apprehension for security in the Rhineland under his control, Hake demanded from Gen. Aster information as to when particular fortresses would acquire adequate defence capabilities. Aster produced copies of his memorandum for both Hake and Rauch. In view of the disturbing facts, Hake felt obliged to bring them to the attention of the minister of war, who was the final authority in financial matters and organisation of work on fortifications. He therefore requested approval for what, together with Aster and Zieten, he had planned to do regarding defences.47 According to Herman Frobenius, the division of command and administrative matters made the Engineers and Pioneers Corps dependent on the Ministry of War. Rauch admittedly could adjudicate in professional matters, but it was the Ministry that ultimately decided on the allocation of resources. Within the 43 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Cologne, 18th August 1816, 34v. 44 In accordance with the order issued in May 1816, Brandenstein carried out a reconnaissance of the Rhine region from Wesel to Cologne and further down to the Ruhr district; Wussow was assigned to survey territory from the river Eder to the river Sieg. Also active in the west at the time were Pfuel and Lt Reisewitz; lah Koblenz, Bestand 402, Sachakte 553, Grolman to Ingasleben, Berlin, 14th May 1816, 52. 45 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Cologne, 18th August 1816, 33v–34. 46 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 24. September 1816’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 227–228. 47 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 30th October 1817, 27–28v.

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Ministry, the director of the 2nd Department and chief of the Engineering Division could differ in views regarding fortifications and defence. After the nomination of Johann Breyse as the Ministry’s Engineering Division chief in 1819, the practice of weekly conferences with the Engineers and Pioneers Corps chief to reach a consensus regarding fortification matters originated.48 The 2nd Department would have had practically no influence shaping strategy were it not part of the Ministry of War, which at that time was the key advisory body to the monarch. In accordance with the regulations of 1814–1816, the Kommandierende Generäle were key to the Prussian defence system, which Messerschmidt described as acting ‘alongside’ the Ministry of War. It is, however, difficult to define the nature of their relationship. A decree in August 1814, granted the kg unlimited authority in military matter within their province and the right to issue orders that could only be overruled by the monarch. The basic responsibility of the kg was to ensure security, and for this purpose to observe developments in neighbouring countries. The performance of this task required close collaboration with civil authorities. This is demonstrated by Chancellor Hardenberg’s appraisal of the behaviour of Thümen in the hastily managed Posen defence alert in May of 1816.49 The chancellor was dissatisfied with provincial authorities who complied with the demands of the kg for the supply of provisions and the imposition of a police regime and yet failed to keep him informed as the king’s advisor in matters concerning the security of the state. For him the arbitrary actions of the kg in matters concerning foreign policy, which were to be the preserve of civil authorities, was contradictory to the stated stance of the king. He believed that in such matters the kg should consult the president of the Province and act only in accordance with what they jointly agreed, that it was not acceptable to take decisions affecting the general interest of the province without the approval of the province’s civil authorities. The kg’s responsibility, however, was to prepare a comprehensive plan of action in the event of a province being invaded. The basic task was to provide available forces and resources in a state of readiness, which involved designating positioning for these forces and how they would be used. The main concern was defensive actions and it is uncertain whether the kg had instructions in the outbreak of war concerning the possible deployment of Prussia’s main forces, not a complete operational plan but information on what measures should be taken to enable the main forces to concentrate and undertake further actions. 48 Frobenius, Geschichte des preussischen, vol. 1, 18. 49 SA in Posen, HPPP, ref. No. 591, Hardenberg to Zerboni di Sposetti, Berlin, 10th May 1816, 22–24.

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If such instructions existed, they would have come from the Ministry of War. Three documents from Boyen’s legacy are evidence that such instructions may have been the case. Their authorship and dating, however, are problematic. The first document is a copy of a memorandum probably issued by Borstell in 1816.50 A clue to its authorship is Boyen’s handwritten annotation stating that it had been received from Borstell on the 23rd of July, indicating either the general’s authorship or perhaps of someone else from a Prussian Generalkommando. The contents indicatew that the document, as well as two other copies of documents, originated in 1816.51 According to the document, the Prussian Kommandierender General had to solve two issues: to plan the most expedient preparation for the defence of the province and to select the moment to realise the plan in the event of war with Russia. The first task involved preparing the entire population to serve in the regular army and the Landwehr, and provide resources necessary for combat. Selecting the moment to use defence measures required the commander to have at his disposal up-to-date knowledge of relations with Russia, its forces, and any movements near the province’s border, especially those preparing to cross the border. The commander should also have detailed written instructions regarding the organisation of the state’s entire defence system, which in the event of a Russian invasion would serve as guidelines for the issuing of the Generalkommando’s orders.52 This shows a conviction that guidelines should be drawn up at a central level for generals in the provinces, on the basis of which they could prepare their troops for war. That such guidelines perhaps existed is evidenced in another document, entitled ‘Special Orders in the Prussian General Command’.53 The document was written in 1816, as evidenced by the fact that it mentions units that were under the command of the Prussian Generalkommando.54 The title and form of the text indicate that it might have been issued as part of a more general set of instructions concerning the defence of the province. Alternatively, it could have 50 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Abschrift: An Boyen, 38–39v. 51 This is how Rothe dates them in his list of Borstell’s letters; Hermann von Boyen, 96, footnote 43. 52 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Abschrift: An Boyen, 39v. 53 Ibid., Spezielle Anordnungen, 40–42v. 54 The names of the units mentioned in the document were the 6th Uhlan Regiment and 30th Infantry Regiment prove that it originated from 1816 for in 1817 the 6th Uhlan Regiment was changed into the 2nd Cuirassiers Regiment and the 30th (Rhineland) Regiment became the 5th Infantry Regiment; ‘Nachweisung, wie die Brigaden gegenwärtig zusammengesetzt wird’, 122–124; ‘Uebersicht wie die Landwehr-Regimenter bei den InfanterieRegimentern des stehenden Heeres eingetheit nach ihren Regierungs-Deparataments benannat nummeriert werden’, mwb 2, 59 (1817), 251–253; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-­ Brigaden in Preussen’, 523–524.

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been an instruction written by Boyen or Grolman, as it states that the ­concentration of Prussian forces should be on the line of the lakes and centred around Lötzen. It seems, although, doubtful that in such a case the document would have been situated in Boyen’s legacy in the form of a copy. In all certainty the text is connected with the previous copy, and seems to indicate both were orders issued by Borstell, more so because of the kg’s prerogative and because both documents refer to the movement of Russian forces. The second copy includes 13 points concerning war preparations in the province55 and discusses the strategic situation, with information on the potential actions of the main Prussian forces and consequent orders that would be issued to units in the province.56 As in the previous case, it is unlikely that Borstell would plan actions based solely on his assumptions. The last of the three documents presumes the targets of invading Russian forces and provides information about three Prussian armies that were to be mustered against them in Prussia and Silesia and one as a reserve force, with a rallying point in Greater Poland.57 One may find traces of a military operations from an analysis of materials in the legacy of the chief of General Staff of the vi Army Corps Karl von der Groeben. Among them are instructions for the commanders of border units in Silesia, issued in Wrocław on the 15th of July 1821.58 They contain information on preparations for war on the provincial level. Above all, the document defines the tasks of the corps in the cases of three possible war variants. From the text it is clear that vi Army Corps had defined procedures in the events of war with France, Russia, or Austria, also taking into account actions of potential allies. Although the document was written almost two years after Boyen’s departure from the office as minister of war, it could represent evidence of the existence of a planning procedure in Prussia, and the existence of instructions (or information) issued by the Ministry of War to the generals in the provinces. However, since no extant text includes such instructions, the matter should be treated as purely hypothetical. The role of the Ministry of War in the process, however, is illustrated in cases of kgs writing drafts of ordinances. In a letter of the 2nd of January 1817, kg Hake wrote to Boyen about the military situation in the Rhineland province.59 He did not send the minister a copy for fear of it falling into the hands of the enemy, but expressed hope that one 55 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Spezielle Anordnungen, 40–41v. 56 Ibid., 41v–42v. 57 Ibid., Abschrift: Object der Rußen im Kriege gegen Preußen, [July 1816?], 43. 58 GStA PK, vi. ha, Groeben, No. i Ca2, Instruktion für die Grenzkommandos an der polnischen Grenze, Wrocław, 15th December 1821, s.p. 59 The text is lost, but it is mentioned in a list of documents; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 69.

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would be sent.60 On the 6th of May 1817, Borstell received an order from Frederick William iii to present to Prince William information about his actions as the kg in Prussia, the general situation in the province, and what ordinances would need be issued in the event of war.61 This request was made in association with Prince William’s trip to Russia.62 The prince was to receive the information on his return through Prussia but did not occur because his route was changed. For this reason, Borstell wrote a memorandum to the prince and the minister of war.63 In doing so, Borstell used his own initiative both by writing the report and by sending it to Boyen, though he was obliged to present all defence plan proposals to the minister of war. This was not universal practice and is shown by another example from the Rhineland Generalkommando. Hake’s Memoire über unsere Einrichtungen am Rhein of the 3rd of February 1818 was directed exclusively to the king and chancellor.64 Despite existing protocol, perhaps such documents were not standardised and instead depended on the initiative of the general in charge of a given province and or on the will of the king, who could always request information about provincial defence plans. The contents of the memoranda does reveal how oriented the kgs were in potential actions of the main forces. The one sent by Borstell is dated 8 January 181865 and contains a 22-point action plan in the event of a Russian invasion.66 In addition to detailed information about ordinances, the document addresses two significant issues. While discussing the potential directions from which the Russians could invade, the kg in Prussia, Borstell, stated that his forces were in no way bound by instructions on how to act in the event of war and therefore he could only count on units mobilised in his province.67 Later in the document, Borstell notes that considering the enemy’s numerical superiority, he should apply delaying tactics, attacking the enemy flank and rear if the opportunity arose, but avoiding a pitched battle, simply attempting to hold out until main forces turned the situation in Prussia’s favour on the Warthe and Narew.68 The statements seem contradictory. Borstell wrote that there was no ‘higher’ instruction for his troops, and yet he was clearly aware of the potential 60 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 2nd January 1817, 8–9. 61 Ibid., No. 332, Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 19th January 1818, 56. 62 About trip: Ibid., No. 1, Natzmer to Boyen, Pawlowsk, 4th September 1817, 41–43v. 63 Ibid., No. 332, Abschrift: Borstell to Prince William (copy), Königsberg, 10th January 1818, 57–58. 64 Ibid., No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 2nd January 1817, 8–9. 65 Ibid., No. 332, Borstell: Über die von dem General-Kommando, 59–73. 66 Ibid., 67–69. 67 Ibid., 62. 68 Ibid., 69v.

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actions of the main Prussian forces. He also seems to suggest that other instructions could exist. One should be aware that the location of the Generalkommando in Prussia was specific and that cooperation with forces in the rest of the country was nearly impossible. Perhaps that is why there were no specific guidelines and that a commander had greater freedom to act. Borstell’s conflict with Boyen over whether forces on the right bank of the Vistula should be concentrated in Königsberg or Lötzen, which lasted until 1819, shows that both were informed about general defence plans.69 It is also difficult to imagine that without information regarding probable ordinances in the event of war in the east that Borstell could have made specific judgments regarding the strategic position of his province. According to Clausewitz, Hake’s memorandum contains operational guidelines for initial actions in the province in the event of war with France, which he criticised for neglectling to take into the account the political context.70 This would indicate that the Rhineland Generalkommando chief of General Staff actually knew the political context, and that his commander also knew, which would indicate a coherent system of defence planning. Even if Clausewitz had information about possible actions in the event of a French invasion, he was under no obligation to follow a gs officer’s advice. tgs officers position was so weak that commanders could simply ignore their advices. Although in accordance with the instructions of August 1814, the Generalkommando chief of gs was entitled to issue ordnances in place of the kg in the case of the absence, sickness, or death, and therefore should have knowledge of his commander’s intentions, in practice it depended on how they personally related to one another. As a young staff officer in Prussia, Reyher had stood in for absent Borstell and Auer (since 1819 the chief of General Staff of the i Army Corps), who normally jointly governed the Generalkommando with the commander having the decisive voice. According to an extant register, Auer was the author of a 1817 document entitled ‘Betrachtungen über die von dem General-Kommando von Preußen für unerwartete Fälle zu treffenden Anordnungen’,71 which most likely was the basis for the memorandum that Borstell presented to Frederick William iii in January of 1818. Clausewitz complained in letters to Gneisenau that his commanding officer settled matters

69 70 71

Ibid., Boyen to Rauch (copy), Berlin, 12th April 1819, 112–113; ibid., Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 26th April 1819, 99–100; ibid., Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 17th April 1819, 98. ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 3. Februar 1818’, 314–321. BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 67.

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independently, treating his stance as insignificant.72 He believed that the differences of opinion between himself and Hake were considerable and that his superior did not trust him, disagreeing with everything he said. The situation went so far that most of the key issues Hake discussed with Müffling, then in charge of surveying work in the Rhine valley, were passed to Clausewitz only for his signature. Despite dissatisfaction with the state of affairs, the military philosopher considered it as natural in the Prussian army: the Generalkommando was not a council, neither was he chief of government, but only chief of staff. There was no establishment for him to impose his opinion on his superior.73 Years later, Hake complained to Müffling that as the Rhineland kg he was never informed about the tasks that the 2nd Department had ordered Clausewitz and other gs officers.74 More serious problems were encountered in ­Silesia by Clausewitz’s friend, Maj. Groeben. The commander of the province, Gen. Hünerbein, had a reputation of being difficult to get along with and personally felt that commanding was his prerogative. Clausewitz commiserated with his friend who was forced to leave the Rhineland Generalkommando and was transferred in 1817 to Silesia.75 Whatever Groeben’s collaboration with Hünerbein were, when Groeben’s commander died on the 4th of February 1819, in accordance with existing regulations, the duties should have been taken over by Groeben. A week later he received a letter from the commander of the 11th Division, Gen. Röder, stating that until a new kg was nominated, he would send Groeben documents only of an informational nature and would reserve all important decisions and orders for himself. Röder felt that, as being a more senior officer in the province, Groeben should respect his seniority.76 Although Röder was indeed senior in military rank, this was a usurpation of command. In the exchange of letters, both officers held their ground, although Groeben’s position was backed by a royal order that stipulated that the gs chief should temporary take over the function of kg.77 Therefore, Groeben requested that the minister of war resolve the issue, arguing that Röder’s claims

72 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Wiesbaden, 24. Juni 1817’, 288–289. 73 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 11. Dezember 1817’, 306. 74 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Hake to Müffling, Berlin, 23rd March 1822, 88. 75 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Wiesbaden, 24. Juni 1817’, 289. 76 GStA pk, Groeben, No. i Ca4, Röder to Groeben, Wrocław, 11th February 1819, s.p. 77 Ibid., Groeben to Röder, Wrocław, 11th February 1819, s.p.; ibid., Groeben to Generalen (copy), Wrocław, 9th February 1819, s.p.; ibid., Groeben to Generalen (copy), Wrocław, 6th February 1819, s.p.; ibid., Röder to Groeben, Wrocław, 11th February 1819, s.p.

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were unreasonable, more so because the most senior officer in the province was actually the General of the Infantry Julius von ­Grawert.78 Boyen agreed with Groeben, stating that rules of substitution were plainly specified in the instruction of ther 28th of August 1814.79 This indicates that it was only the constitutional positon of the Ministry of War that could control kg authority. There are many examples of kg claims to power, especially the idea that they were only answerable to the monarch, and therefore the Generalkommandos should be considered as responsible for defence planning. The power of the kg, however, actually had a negative effect on the ability of tgs officers and the Engineers and Pioneers Corps to influence defence policy. While Grolman and Rauch could ensure consensus regarding policies in the institutions they commanded, only the monarch could dispose provincial commanders to adopt these policies. While Grolman’s position was more influential than that of the tgs officers, even he was not exclusively responsible for defence planning. Bucholz is wrong to proclaim that after the Napoleonic wars the Prussians began a far-reaching process of war planning.80 Yet it is hard to agree with Bremm that there was no operational planning whatsoever in Prussia.81 Both scholars, albeit in different ways, treat Moltke’s actions as chief of ggs as a template that extended to the first half of the 19th century. The kg in the provinces was clearly obligated to present his ordinance concerns, at least as to preliminary actions in the event of war. It seems unlikely that they would do this without instructions from Berlin. Unfortunately, apart from guidelines for Rauch and Grolman, no similar text issued by the Ministry of War has survived. However, the role of the director of the 2nd Department must have been considerable; as the direct subordinate of the minister he would have been responsible for designing and preparing operations. Although commanders in the provinces could ignore their subordinate tgs officers, they could hardly ignore guidelines that came directly from the Ministry. On the other hand, privileges and political position allowed tgs officers considerable freedom in defence planning and it was on their orders that initial action plans depended. These assumptions are consistent with documents from various provinces, as well as from facts stated by Clausewitz. The work of the Generalkommando primarily involved preparing the province under his charge morally and materially for

78 Ibid., Groeben to Boyen (copy), Wrocław, 12th February 1819, s.p. 79 Ibid., Boyen to Groeben, Berlin, 26th February 1819, s.p. 80 Bucholz, Moltke, Schlieffen, 12–17; Bucholz, Moltke and the German, 15–20. 81 Bremm, Von der Chaussee, 43.

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war. Hence, themes regarding the kg in this and later periods are reports ­regarding the state of the army and the Landwehr, as well as progress in the ­construction of fortifications.82 The kg was most probably also responsible for issuing guidelines for the first concentration of forces. Therefore, one can argue that in the years 1815–1819 war planning was constant in the Kingdom of Prussia, although limited to defence and shaped both by central authorities and on the province level. The appointment of Müffling as Chief of the General Staff of the Army modified the existing system. An order of the 11th of January 1821 stipulated that Müffling had overall responsibility for the conceptual preparation for war. He was to incorporate this task in collaboration with the minister of war, to whom he was to present all his proposals before they were implemented.83 The royal order ceded to him some responsibilities of the director of the 2nd Department. On the 25th of January 1821, the director was entrusted with the collection of all materials serving the army in times of war and peace, including maps, plans, military sketches, books, manuscripts, whereas the Chief of the General Staff of the Army was to ensure that these materials fulfilled their utility.84 Due to a lack of sources, it is difficult to determine to what extent these procedures from Boyen’s time were applied in the subsequent decade. Most available sources concern the gs, and therefore it is from the perspective of this institution that an attempt can be made to describe the process of formulating defence planning. Müffling’s resistance to staff reductions concerned not only the functioning of the institution, but also his vision of the role of General Staff officers in the Prussian army. Above all, he treated his institution as a school for future commanders,85 which according to Reyher’s testimony was an intention shared by the king.86 gs officers were to serve as advisors to the commanders, taking over management when commanders were engaged in military actions. This was the result of changes in the nature of war that Müffling experienced during the Napoleonic campaigns. What had become essential to attaining victory on the battlefield was invisible in the times of an ‘accelerated’ art of war. 82 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii A 15, Monatliche Zirkularschreiben des Kriegsministerium, 1820–1832; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 16, No. 38, Instruktion über die Geschäfts-Führung bei den Truppen und deren Eingaben, Berlin, 12th March 1822, 2–20; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 16, No. 39, Instruktion über die Geschäfts-Führung bei den Truppen und deren Eingaben, Berlin, 12th July 1828, 3-26v. 83 BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 18–19. 84 Ibid., 20–22. 85 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 268. 86 Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 11.

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The slower pace of waging war in the past provided commanders enough time to examine and consider; decisions could likewise be made on what they saw. The inadequacies of this previous system were demonstrated in the campaigns of 1813 and 1814. The old, systematic method needed to be replaced. Armies now required a commander who understood that he could not singlehandedly command operations and had to trust his subordinates. The modern art of war depended on so much planning that the commander became a mere element in a larger construct.87 In the older Prussian military structure, generals would be summoned by the commander to gather in headquarters, perceived as representing places where he could not personally be present. They were informed of army command in order to not cause disruptions in the course of battles. That system was now anachronistic; generals who previously reported to headquarters had to have far greater autonomy in their actions. They could no longer do without a chief of staff to care for matters the commander no longer had time for. The chief of staff needed familiarity with all matters concerning the waging of war to be able to assist his commander on the battlefield.88 Müffling’s philosophy of command is here discernible. Gneisenau, he felt, overly believed in his consciousness of mind and power of genius. Such an attitude was wrong, in Müffling’s opinion, because a commander’s strengths, personal courage, and perseverance what he had planned could not be transfered onto others.89 Napoleon’s greatest weakness was his pride. He frequently underrated his enemies, which was wrong because he made mistakes, mistakes that lost him the throne. According to Müffling, Napoleon’s example convincingly showed how dangerous it was in conditions of war to be bound by rigid forms and how a thorough knowledge of an enemy’s organisational weaknesses was far more useful in achieving victory than calculations based on one’s own erudition.90 The consistent promotion of intellect and hands-on experience of service in the line were paramount. Throughout the 1820s he proposed a career path for gs officers by rotating service within the institution with military line service.91

87 C. v. W., Betrachtungen, vii–ix. 88 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Der Anlagen von der Hand des Generals v. Müffling, 146–154v. 89 Müffling, Aus meinem, 2nd Ed., 29–30. 90 C. v. W., Betrachtungen, 141–143. 91 This idea was first expressed in a letter to Hake in 1821; BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 38v-40. The matter came back in the memoranda of 1821–1825; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Pro Memoria, s.l., 10th March 1824, 105-112v. It was repeated in in a memorandum to the king in December 1828; BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 36–38.

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Contrary to the claims of Walther Görlitz, Müffling did not introduce major changes to the internal structure of the ggs.92 According to ordinances issued on the 30th of January 1821, officers in the headquarters continued to be employed primarily in the three Kriegstheater sections, to which was added the Sektion für Kriegsgeschichte, personally headed by the Chief of the ggs.93 The same documents introduced official channels of communication for all gs officers (Generalstabs-Dienstweg). Henceforth, every gs officer had to send all their written applications and reports to their given chief of the general staff of army corps or section chief and only next to the chief of the General Staff of the Army (or via the Chief of the ggs). Another document from 182194 defined the duties of the gs officer in securing details associated with the command of armies, corps, or divisions under the direction of, or on behalf of, the army commanders. It was considered impossible for a general to perform all his tasks independently and relieving them of certain duties allowed them to 92

The new structure was to comprise three ‘main divisions’ (Haupt-Division), 1st personnel, 2nd organisation, training, manoeuvres, mobilisation and concentration, and 3rd technical and artillery (Görlitz, Der deutsche Generalstab, 78). There is no confirmation in the sources to Görlitz’s claims. This not only concerns the most recently discovered documents, but also earlier accounts and memoirs. This was noticed by Walter, who points to an unchanged organisation of the ggs from the times of Grolman up to the times of Krauseneck, referring to the biographies of Krauseneck, Reyher and Moltke (Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 507–508, footnote 36). In his opinion, the organisational structure suggested by Görlitz corresponds to what had existed in the years of 1809–1814 Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement. A departure from the organisation established in 1816 did not take place until 1848. (Jany, Geschichte der Königlich, vol. 4, 196, footnote 307). Nevertheless, the mistake is to this day duplicated in literature and leads to bizarre situations. The editor of the completed memoirs of Müffling, containing excerpts concerning the organisation of the General Staff, performs an astounding feat: the statement of the ggs chief that ‘in the internal organisation of the General Staff and in its task there still remained a lot to do’ and added to it a footnote referring to Görlitz’s claims (Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 260, footnote 103). In doing so, he ignored what Müffling wrote on the next page of his memoir, namely that the General Staff had been divided into Kriegstheater and that he fully accepted the organisation which had been introduced by Boyen and Grolman (ibid., 261). 93 The ordinances were directed separately to the ggs and tgs: BA-MA, rh 61/337, Generalstabs-Dienstweg, 23–26; BA-MA, ph 3/124, Die Organisation, 43v, 50v. 94 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Über die Bestimmung des Generalstabes, 4–15. The circumstances in which this document was written are unclear. Its location among Great General Staff materials (namely in the Preußische Armee, Grosser Generlastab, Zentral und Fachabteilungen) is evidence of its formal status, as is the arrangement of the text in paragraphs. The signature at the bottom of this document (memoramdum) is of Maj. Lützow, a hard to identify officer of the ggs who on account of his rank could not be Lt Col. Lützow, the chief of the eastern Kriegstheater Grolman’s time. An annotation in pencil states that Lützow in the rank of major died on 13th August 1821, and therefore the document must have been written before that date, which corresponds to the time when the General Staff was under review. Cf. ibid., Vorarbeit, 35–36.

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c­ oncentrate on more important matters. All factors regarding the waging of war, especially enemy forces, their position and movements, were of special ­concern for the General Staff.95 All works, whether in peacetime or wartime belonged to one of three groups: preparation,96 management,97 or history.98 Of key importance to planning was that of management. The efficient waging of war required a thorough knowledge of the country and terrain where a war was to take place and the organisation and military potential of enemy forces. There would be little time to gather such information after the outbreak of hostilities and therefore ggs officers were to see to war plans for the homeland and neighbouring countries during peacetime.99 These included plans for individual operations as well as entire campaigns (offensive and defensive) in accordance with the instructions of the gs chief. These plans were submitted to the General Staff Archive, from where they would be distributed among the Kommandierende Generäle at the outbreak of war. However, since they would become outdated in real wartime conditions, they were rarely modified. Nevertheless, as sources of information on a possible theatre of war they were useful. The plans were of practical benefit to the gs officers as complementary to creating operational plans. It was assumed that they would enable a gs chief to present an accurate appraisal of a neighbour’s forces, of difficulties with supplies, terrain, and fortifications, as well as the time need to give the Prussian side a chance to succeed in either an offensive or defensive war. Such appraisals, together with those of political relations, were meant to provide an accurate diagnosis of the external security of the state (Grade der ausseren Sicherheit des Staates), which together with the internal state of finances was to influence what political steps would be taken, what war system would be

95 96

97

98 99

Ibid., Über die Bestimmung des Generalstabes, 4. In peacetime, this concerned all tasks aiming to understand the theatre of war, including surveying and the preparation of maps as well as so-called militärische Augenmass exercises, staff rides (Reise), acquiring information about armed forces and fortifications in neighbouring countries; in wartime, it involved field sketches (Croquis) and improving maps; ibid., 6v–9. The catalogue of management tasks was very extensive and depended on whether the officer in charge from the Great General Staff or the Truppengeneralstab. In peacetime, the ggs concentrated on sorting and compiling the detailed information. This work was also done om the various Kriegstheater sections, and the purpose of this action was to acquire accurate knowledge in the event of war as well as the possible state of enemy forces. The last element of ggs management tasks was a detailed description of fortification works in the country; ibid., 9. Ibid., 14–15. Ibid., 4v.

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a­ dopted, and what taxes would need to be raised.100 Much importance was attached to gs planning, which was assumed to effect the state with regard to matters of defence.101 Supplementary information regarding the Great General Staff was provided by an instruction of the 29th of March 1822.102 The work of ggs officers had a dual purpose – to prepare materials regarding Prussia and surrounding countries and for the education of future Great General Staff officers. The unit was to run as usual during wartime and to remain under the special control of the Chief of the General Staff of the Army. A special role in the ggs was assumed by its superior, whose duties included attending Ministry meetings, receiving instructions from the minister, and, with the approval of Chief of the General Staff of the Army, to present reports on the institution’s work, problems with strategic relations, and the location of fortifications, guidelines regarding city walls, ramparts, towers, and buildings, in addition to terrain, an assessment of road building projects, canals, and bridges throughout the country, and a general assessment of the country’s defences. Such knowledge came from sections under his control, which obliged him to report significant changes to the minister and to individual kgs. Each Kriegstheater had both fundamental and current tasks. The first was to describe the state of the country or army using materials from the Plankammer and archive, measurements, reconnaissance, and travel reports, as well as information from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. These materials were to be critically evaluated and updated. Particular attention was to be paid to mountains, roads, trails, swamps, towns, villages, and buildings. The works were based on the best available maps. All the information was to be bound in volumes, ready for immediate use. On the basis of compiled materials, detailed assessments were made of given countries. Similar compilations were made with regard to foreign armed forces. On the same basis, in accordance with principles laid out by Grolman, the Vertheidigungsplan was prepared. An assessment of current works included descriptions of annual manoeuvres and parades, the collection and study of the literature and press articles in various languages concerning politics, military geography, and the history of war, as well as the training of a quota of gs officers.103 In addition were summer rides (Sommerreisen), tasks deferred to winter (grosse Aufgabe), and a description of autumn manoeuvres in Berlin. 100 Ibid., 11, comment **. 101 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 268–270. 102 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Konzept: Instruktion für den großen Generalstab, 16–28; Depending on whether it was a time of war or peace, the instructions were supplemented with standard army regulations; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 16, No. 38, Instruktion, 2–20. 103 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit, 39v–40.

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S­ ommerreisen were divided into two types, defined by the instruction of April 1821.104 The first type, similar to what was stated in Grolman’s 1816 instruction, ­included reconnaissance (Rekognoszirungsreise), in order to provide materials and information essential to understanding the theatre of war, one’s own and enemy forces in the preparation for war. The second type included so-called Übungsreise, used to train officers in field service. The introduction of these exercises is generally considered one of Müffling’s major achievements.105 Historians, however, do not agree as to their exact nature. Böckmann treated Müffling’s Generalstabsreisen as a test of up-to-date war planning, an attempt at transferring the realities of the early 19th century to practices in the times of Schlieffen.106 In preparing for defence in one of three directions, Müffling carried out four Generalstabsreisen in the southern theatre of war and two in the western and eastern theatres.107 The annual staff ride in 1826 ran from Driesen (Drezdenko) to the eastern border of Prussia.108 Sources, however, indicate the exclusive training nature of the Generalstabsreisen. In his memoirs, Müffling describes his staff travels in detail.109 The Übungsreisen were to train those of the ggs and tgs officers who after the Herbstübungen were still not fully qualified to perform necessary tasks. The training lasted from two to four weeks and was combined with the Rekognoscirungübungsreisen to save time.110 In reference to the first form of training, Müffling simply states that its aim was to describe the terrain for the purpose of warfare.111 The second form of training he described in detail. It comprised two parts, in the first two weeks of which officers were divided into two corps devoted to the practical work of staff ­officers.112 In the second week they were again divided into two corps, ­provided 104 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C 1, Grundsätze für die Reisen der Generalstabs, s.p.; The excerpt is also found in: Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 43; Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 528–529. 105 Jähns, Feldmarschall, part 2, 1st half, 268–269; Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 54–58. 106 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 121–122. 107 Ibid., 123–124. 108 Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 54. 109 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 261–262, 264–266. 110 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C 1, Grundsätze, s.p. 111 Ibid., No. i Ca 6, Generalstabsreise, s.p.; ibid., No. i Ca 7, Generalstabsreise im Jahr 1821, s.p.; ibid., No. i Ca 8, Generalstabsreisen im Jahr 1822, s.p.; ibid., No. i Ca 9, Generalstabsreisen im Jahr 1823, s.p. 112 Staff states that the Übungsreise included ‘Vorübung’ and ‘grosser Übung’. The former simulated the army corps march to the theatre of war operations. i. e. a march in the vicinity of the enemy, with a vanguard and rear-guard, wing detachments, scouts, etc. These exercises were performed in two or three divisions under the command of staff officers. These divisions were next united and largescale exercises were begun under the supervision of the chief of gs; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit, 55–56v.

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with a hypothetical chain of command and various units that involved issuing orders in a typical war situation. This form of simulation was intended to provide officers with abilities to issue instructions appropriate to circumstances predetermined by Müffling. The intention was primarily to create a ­situation of d­ octrinal unity among officers serving as assistants to commanders. Müffling was decidedly opposed to creative approaches that would have been impossible to execute by the Prussian army as it was, and contrary to regulations resulting from tactical norms and principles of strategy. Müffling attempted to make staff officers in the corps aware that their role was not that of a commander but of an advisor, to put forward proposals and desiderata for their commander’s consideration.113 In a Pro Memoria of the 24th of November 1824, he stressed that during annual exercises he issued instructions to the chiefs of general staff of army corps, subordinate senior officers, and junior officers to observe they how they would carry them out. The reception and issuing of orders was tested to the lowest level. Müffling wanted every officer to learn how to give and carry out orders, praise and reprimand subordinates, and be praised and reprimanded themselves.114 The description of the 1826 travel referred to by Karl von Ollech suggests that they were supposed to simulate as best as possible real war conditions and officers were bound to strict secrecy. The tasks were to fully reflect what they were to perform in a real conflict.115 Likewise, Brandt’s account of the autumn 1829 Generalstabsreise, in which he participated, nowhere suggests that a current defence or operational plan was being tested. Brandt states that it was different from exercises carried out in Moltke’s day. The officers were divided into two groups commanded by section chiefs Major Karl Wilhelm von Willisen and Major Carl von Röder. Brandt confirms the technical nature of the journey and the strict secrecy to which the participants were bound. The aim was not to solve strategic problems, or ‘strategic calculations’ as Brandt put it, but to teach the officers to think in a way that would become essential when they occupied higher command positions.116 There are no extant sources unfortunately to collaborate the contents of the files with the Übungsreisen descriptions on which those sources were based.117 There is some doubt about the nature of the memorandum that Reyher was instructed to prepare in the summer of 1826 for conducting a campaign in the east with the concentration of forces determined by Müffling. Ollech believed 113 Karl Freiherr von Müffling. Offizier, 264–265. 114 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, First draft of Müffling’s Pro Memoria, 169–171. 115 Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 54. 116 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 23–26. 117 Cf. Introduction.

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that it was to have been written in preparation for the Übungsreise. The fact that writing it was assigned to Reyher, then the chief of General Staff of vi Army Corps, is evidence of how trusted he was by the Chief of the General Staff of the Army.118 The text, regrettably, is unknown. Perhaps it was a study of training, similar to die grosse Winteraufgaben which sections chiefs assigned to subordinates as exercises appropriate to their posts serving as confirmation of eligibility for promotion.119 Such tasks must have included the results of a study of the enemy with a view to preparing for possible cases of war (Kriegsfälle). It is assumed that this was the nature of tasks famously criticised by Clausewitz in 1827. The first of these scenarios assumed a conflict between Prussia and an Austro-Saxon coalition. The officers received general information about their own forces and those of their enemy, including available means of action. Five questions were to be asked: possible operations of the Austrian and Saxon forces, the calculation of such operations in time and space, a determination of the extent to which each operation would threaten Prussia, the general situation of Prussia, and possible counteractions and indications of potential dangers in each case.120 The second task was to choose between two variants for the displacement of Prussian corps in defence against an Austrian attack between the Elbe and Spree.121 Both entailed designing a campaign in a theatre of war. The recipients of these tasks were Maj. Carl von Röder, then chief of the central Kriegstheater, and an officer with the initial ‘M’. Paret suggests it could have been Lt Monts.122 However, the scope of the task went beyond what could be expected of junior staff officers. The ‘M’ could refer to Müffling himself, but that is only speculation.123 Clausewitz criticised the tasks for a lack of providing political circumstances, a point of view accepted by most later authors. The matter could be more complicated. Major Heinrich von Brandt received a similar task in 1828. According to Brandt, Müffling provided him with a scenario that assumed that the Chief of the General Staff of the Army had been informed by the Prussian Ministry of Foreign Affairs to expect an Austrian offensive against Prussia within 36 days. Brandt was to ­present draft ordinances for such an eventuality to the king. Müffling also

118 Ollech, Reyher, part 4, 55. 119 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Konzept: Instruktion für den großen Generalstab, 22v–23. 120 ‘Zwei Briefe’, 4–5. 121 Ibid., 44. 122 It is difficult to say who other he could have in mind. For that year, the Ranglisten did not include any by that name or any other name beginning with ‘M’; Rang- und Quartier-Liste der Königlich Preußischen Armee für das Jahr 1820 (Berlin, 1820), 19–20. 123 Paret, ‘Introduction’, 2–3.

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i­ nstructed him to present a similar variant to Röder.124 The circumstances suggest that the task did not only concern training, but were also associated with international developments. The outbreak of a Russo-Turkish war in 1828 made a conflict between European powers a far greater possdibility. There was an Anglo-Austrian coalition on one side, and a Franco-Russian alliance, with the possible inclusion of Prussia, on the other. In Vienna, military plans against both Russia and Prussia were being considered. In the Kingdom of Poland, Grand Duke Konstantin was supposed to be considering war against Prussia and Austria.125 These intensifying conflicts aroused French aspirations to recover their border on the Rhine. According to Treitschke, in the event of war Prussia would have to choose between a bloody war on two fronts or turn against Austria and risk the dissolution of the German Confederation,126 which affected the symptomatic nature of Prussian operation planning. Brandt’s work, of course, was nothing more than opinion. He stressed that the purpose was only to hone his abilities in solving art of war problems. As the chief of the central Kriegstheater, Röder, however, was someone responsible for planning the conditions for war against Austria. The similarity of the two tasks and that they coincided with specific international situations may indicate that they were part of a study of a real war scenario. If that was the case, Clausewitz’s complaints would be unfounded. Müffling’s memorandum of June 1827 indicates that he was conducting a study into the possibilities of resisting Austrian aggression. That same text indicates the difficulty of promoting his ideas and that all proposals relied on the will of the monarch. The only source that provides us with an understanding of how the General Staff functioned in peacetime is an annual report from January 1822 found in the legacy of Groeben.127 Expecting the revolution in Naples would lead to the outbreak of war, in March 1821 Frederick William iii commissioned a study of the problems connected with conducting military operations in Italy, especially designating a description of the roads and terrain. The work was written in French and was presented to the Russian tsar as well, meeting positive approval from both monarchs.128 The work was supervised by Maj. Brandenstein, then chief of the central Kriegstheater. Similar works were carried out following the 124 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 14–15. 125 Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 139–140. 126 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 3, 721–722. 127 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C1, Instruction für die Arbeiten und Geschäften der Officierien vom General-Stab, Berlin, January 1822, s.p. The final part of Die Arbeiten des Generalstab 1821. 128 Müffling, Geschichtliche Übersicht der Mittel und Wege, welcher Armeen sich seit dem 12. Jahrhundert bedient haben, um den Krieg aus Oberitalien gegen Neapel zu führen, 1821.

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outbreak of revolution in Sardinia. Although no threat of enemy attack existed, the Great General Staff carried out a study of all elements that could occur in such a war, with detailed knowledge of the terrain, supplemented with information collected when he visited the island in 1821.129 In the summer, Maj. Wussow prepared materials for a military description of the European part of Turkey. He presented it to the king together with an operation plan for Russia intended for the purpose of occupying the European part of the Ottoman Empire.130 This document distinctly shows the advisory function of the General Staff in the Prussian system of command, that studies presented were proposals and not actual directives. Whether the situation changed after 1825, while Müffling imposed his views regarding strategy on his subordinates it remained exclusively the doctrine of the gs officers’ corps. The separation of the General Staff from the Ministry of War, turning it into an independent entity like the Engineers and Pioneers Corps, certainly elevated the position of its chief, but in the army gs officers were still treated as another technical specialist corps. Commanders, especially those nominated to lead in the event of war, had virtually complete freedom, limited only by their responsibility to the king. Based on available sources, it is difficult to define the influence of the minister of war on the development of a Prussian defence plan. Information from Hake’s term in office is limited to administrative and economic matters.131 The only extant instructions and directives regarding defence are from the 1815–1819 period. The way Frederick William iii managed the army offered him the key role of ‘supreme warlord’ (der oberste Kriegsherr). Although the Chief of General Staff could realise objectives through the Ministry of War, in practice it was the king that decided responsibility for particular matters. Therefore strategic planning at the highest level became unclear, which effectively strengthened the position of the army corps commanders. This situation is confirmed by an instruction to tgs officers.132 Corps commanders (kommandierende Offiziere) were to be fully responsible for all units under their command, including all ordinances, but in their verbal and written communication they were assisted by an assigned General Staff officer and adjutant. During wartime, however, General Staff officers had an additional responsibility: to determine what was indispensable for the movement and combat of troops and to submit their findings to the commander. The General 129 Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 1, 32–33. 130 Ibid., 209–211; Behr, ‘Lebensbild’, 17; P. von Wussow, Übersicht des Kriegsschauplatzes der europäischen Türkei von der Donau und den Grenzen von Serbien und Macedonien bis bis Constantinopel. Ein Beitrag zur Militair-Geographie (Koblenz, 1828). 131 ‘Albrecht Georg Ernst Karl von Hake’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3, 381–382. 132 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C1, Instruction für die Arbeiten, s.p.

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Staff officer had to submit reports of all his activities, and his actions had to be in accordance with regulations, taking into account special circumstances. Fulfilling these obligations freed him from responsibility for orders issued by commanders, as they were not obliged to take into account his proposals.133 Of course, regulations obligated them to introduce to their subordinates the arcana of Generalkommando government. This was a primarily requirment concerning a gs officer standing in for the kg in the event of the latter’s sickness or death, or if the kg was travelling for more than 14 days. In such cases, the chief of general staff of army corps was entitled to independently manage all branches of Generalkommando government and receive written and verbal reports of actions previously ordered by the kg.134 Theoretically, this allowed tgs officers to participate in the kg’s decisions with regard to the defence of the province. In June 1821, the king emphatically reminded the kgs of this regulation regarding substitution. The monarch wanted to extend the regulation so that the kg would make key decision according to their prerogative in strict consultation with their gs chief, but to allow their subordinate to deal independently with less important issues.135 Such ideas were, however, alien to the mentality of Prussian generals. The gs officers regulation nevertheless persisted. Ritter cited Maj. Gen. Johann Wilhelm Petersen from December 1864, then chief of General Staff of ii Army Corps, that the position Müffling admitted to tgs officers was the least clear in Europe, that it turned them into advisers who bore no responsibility but were dependent on their superiors to have any say in the decision-making process.136 In a time of painful staff cuts, this was indeed an opinion shared by Müffling. In his opinion, chiefs of general staff of army corps were underappreciated by the king. He regretted this because he 133 In all matters is was necessary to have regard for allowable influence on the given order. The commander had the right to override the opinions of his subordinates in three ways. Unbedingte Gehorsam meant that all his orders should be carried out without any alterations or additional comments. For this the subordinates bore no responsibility for the order they received, but they were fully responsible for whether or not they carried it out in strict accordance. Gehorsam für die Ausführung mit Überlassung der Mittel placed responsibility on the gs chief for selecting the correct measures of achieving the set objective. If the commander had specified which measures should be used to achieve the objective, this would mean the gs officer had made a mistake and could be court marshalled. Gehorsam bei einer vorgeschriebenen Unternehmung, mit der Vollmacht, davon abzustehen, wenn sich die Unmöglichkeit, oder zu großen Schwierigkeiten assumed that only the objective was given, or only the means without the objective, or both the objective and means; ibid. 134 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 16, No. 38, Instruktion, 2–20; ibid., No. 39, Instruktion, 3–26. 135 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Frederick William iii to Hake (copy), Berlin, 4th June 1821, 45. 136 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 375, footnote 42 on 236.

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considered their position to be one of the most demanding and unpleasant in whole army. gs chiefs were usually restricted in organising their free time, being burdened with responsibilities resulting from orders. They ­supervised subordinate officers while simultaneously receiving tasks from ggs sections, which often complicated relations with their superiors. Any independence of decision making was illusionary. Their opinions were often rejected or even ignored. It is not surprising that those who remained for years in such a system willingly abandoned their unsatisfying work to serve in the line.137 A coherent curriculum for training General Staff officers was created in the years 1821–1829, which provided them with a comprehensive but standardised knowledge. However, the Chief of the General Staff of the Army was an advisor rather than the actual creator of strategy. The real creators were provincial commanders and persons selected by Frederick William iii, which was demonstrated in 1830. In this period Müffling was in that select group of officers and in the event of war would have been one of the king’s chief advisors. The General Staff under his command was a central body studying defence planning and in the event of war the materials it had collected would be the basis for operational plans, although account should be taken of unknown activities of other institutions, as well as the king’s constant consultations with Hake and Witzleben. The views on strategy that Müffling instilled on all gs officers could not, therefore, be considered representative of the entire army. Even if Frederick William iii fully agreed with Müffling and his staff officers, it would be a convergence of views difficult to impose on generals in the provinces. In the 1820s the situation gave considerable freedom to provincial commanders, who were almost solely responsible for defence planning in their section of the country. In reality, the only binding view in the Prussian army was the conviction of Frederick William iii that Prussia should avoid armed conflict at all costs,138 and therefore the country’s armed forces should prepare only to repel armed aggression. 137 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Pro Memoria, 10th March 1824, 105–112v. 138 Handbuch der preussischen Geschichte, vol. 2, 158.

Chapter 5

Institutional Impact on Prussian Military Science, Didactics, and Literature The end of the Napoleonic wars opened reflection on the changes they had brought to all levels of the art of war. As Helmuth Schnitter pointed out, the situation provided a broad field of opportunities for military authors and journalists to investigate what had occurred, but also what lessons needed to be learned, leading to a lively exchange of thoughts. The phenomenon was not new, 18th-century military journalism provided much the same purpose. The difference was that now it was military authorities and institutions who were engaged in setting trends in military literature and journalism.1 This view, however, is only partly true. Although in the first half of the 19th century a dynamic development in military journalism and higher education could be observed, central institutions more often played the role of censors. In an institutional sense, the leading role in the development of military literature, science, and didactics was played by officers of the Prussian General Staff, persons with a thorough military education. Within this organisation the Abteilung für Kriegsgeschichte was the unit that specialised in considerations on military matters. The chief of this section in 1816 was Rühle, whose subordinate was Capt. Wagner. An important role was played by another gs officer, Capt. Carl von Decker, then assigned to the Measurements Bureau. These officers shaped military theory and history in the first years after the Napoleonic wars, being active in military literature, journalism, and training. Rühle and Decker established the famous Prussian military periodical the MilitairWochenblatt (mwb). Max Jähns traces the origins of this periodical to the Prussian Occupation Corps in France, whose soldiers were eager for news from their homeland. The need was recognized by the young publisher Ernst Siegfried Mittler and he succeeded in getting his friend Decker interested. The main obstacle was to acquire permission from higher authorities; the failure of a similar attempt undertaken by Capt. von Steinwehr did not bode well. It was decided that only by acquiring the support of an officer of high rank and social status could this project be accomplished. The ideal candidate proved to be the well-connected Rühle. Thanks to his engagement the project was presented by 1 H. Schnitter, Militärwesen und Militärpublizistik. Die militärische Zeitschriftenpublizistik in der Geschichte des bürgerlichen Militärwesens in Deutschland (Berlin, 1967), 46–47.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���� | doi:10.1163/9789004438439_007

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Boyen to the king, who in May permitted Rühle and Decker to found the journal. Rühle was indispensable to its establishment, while Decker’s name did not even appear inwhat was submitted to the king. Alhough both men’s contributions were complementary, Decker was undoubtedly the soul of the journal in the first years of its existence.2 Royal approval on the 20th of May 1816 defined the journal’s main area of interest.3 Its first issue came out on the 1st of July 1816 and was soon reprinted.4 The military character of the periodical intended to serve the development of the Prussian army. It’s aim was to deal with five issues: (1) royal decrees concerning the army, (2) the placement of troops and personnel issues concerning posts in the Generalkommando, (3) transport, salaries, and promotions, (4) records of military matters, supplements, reports, and critical comments regarding published books, maps, (5) short dissertations on various subjects, obituaries, biographies, and descriptions of past wars. The periodical’s profile allowed for the publication of materials concerning diverse military topics. Its purpose, however, was not that of a specialist military science journal, but rather a source of information for officers in matters that concerned them. It could include a book review or a short treatise on military theory or history but these were marginal features in any given issue. It is primarily an excellent source for organisational changes within the Prussian army in the years 1816–1819, and includes numerous extracts form official orders. Few texts could be described as theoretical military treatises, among them were monographs on military science, comments regarding fortresses, a characteristic of the French actions in the Revolutionary Wars, comments on the Tyrol Rebellion,5 and the works of Joseph Rogniat.6 This shows the marginal and fairly sporadic role of theoretical works. Its greatest shortcoming, according to Theodor von Troschke, was the limited space it afforded to

2 Jähns, ‘Das Militair-Wochenblatt von 1816 bis 1876. Vortrag, gehalten bei dem Jubiläum des Militair-Wochenblattes am 1. Juli 1876’, Beiheft zum Militair-Wochenblatt (1876), 291–293; Schnitter, Militärwesen, 287–289. 3 T. Freiherr v. Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur seit den Befreiungskriegen (Berlin, 1870), 26–27. 4 ‘Zweck und Einrichtung dieses Blattes’, mwb 1, 1 (1816), 1–2. 5 ‘Ueber den Volkskrieg mit Bezug auf den Tyroler Krieg 1809’, mwb 3, 107 (1818), 638–640. 6 ‘Bemerkungen über Rogniats Considerations sur l’art de la guerre. Kriegerische Uebungen und Arbeiten’, mwb 3, 117 (1818), 721–722; ‘Ueber Rogniats Vorschlag: Armee-Korps zu verschanzen’, mwb 4, 167 (1819), 1118–1121; ‘1816 Considerations sur l’art de la guerre par le Baron de Rogniat Lieutnant General, 608Seiten. Berlin 1817, bei E.S. Mittler, Ansichten über die Kriegführung im Geiste der Zeit. Nach den Franz. des Rogniat und nach Vorlesungen, welch im Winter 1816 und den 1817 den Offizieren des Generalstaabes in Berlin gehalten worden sind, von C. von Decker, Major im Königl. Preuß. Generalstaabe, 326 Seiten’, mwb 4, 156 (1819), 1032–1034.

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r­ eviews, which eventually led to the emergence of a different, more specialist military journal.7 Another of Rühle’s project’s was the journal Denkwürdigkeiten für die Kriegskunst und Kriegsgeschichte, which he published with Wagner in the years 1817–1820 under the auspices of the General Staff. It primarily published General Staff Archive materials from the Frederickian and Napoleonic Wars period.8 The reader is informed that its aim is to collect and publish articles that are not integral parts of other works. The main emphasis was on articles concerning military history, which the editors believed was of greater value than pure military theory. This stemmed from the conviction that the art of war was nothing other than a history of wars. While the periodical was primarily devoted to historical subjects, reflections on the art of war were limited to short dissertations, provided they included novel observations.9 The contents of the six issues reveals a predominance of historical themes concerning 18th- and 19th-centuery campaigns. An article that aroused a discussion on the art of war concerned Müffling’s critical appraisal of Napoleon’s actions at Ligny and ­Quatre-Bras, therefore virtually a contemporary subject.10 The appointment of Rühle to the post of director of the 2nd Department effectively brought an end to its publication.11 A major event in Prussian military literature was the publication of an edited translation of the French general Joseph Rogniat’s Considérations sur l’art de guerre.12 The work of this experienced and well-known officer first appeared in Paris towards the end of 1816. Due to its sharp criticism of Napoleon, it became widely known throughout Europe.13 The German translation by Decker14 appeared in 1817 under the title Ansichten über die Kriegführung im Geiste der Zeit.15 The circumstances that led to the Prussian translation are explained in the preface16 by Decker. The theses of the book met with the approval of 7 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 27. 8 [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 162; Aus den Papieren der Familie von Schleinitz, presented by F. von Zobeltitz (Berlin, 1905), 186–187. 9 ‘Vorbemerkung’, Denkwürdigkeiten für die Kriegskunst und Kriegsgeschichte 1 (1817), 1–2. 10 ‘Über die Schlachten von Ligny und belle Alliance in Beziehung auf den Feldzug 1815 von C. von W.’, Denkwürdigkeiten 3 (1817), 228–243. 11 [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 162. 12 J. Rogniat, Considérations sur l’art de guerre (Paris, 1816). 13 B. Colson, Le général Rogniat, ingénieur et critique de Napoleon (Paris, 2006), 611–624. 14 See Chapter 11. 15 Ansichten über die Kriegführung im Geiste der Zeit. Nach dem französischen des Rogniat und nach Vorlesungen welche im Winter 1816/1817 den Offizieren des Generalstaabes in Berlin gehalten worden sind, ed. C. von Decker (Berlin und Posen, 1817). 16 Ibid., v–viii.

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‘­respected men’ (achtungwürdige Männer) who recommended it as particularly valuable for General Staff officers. The initial plan to translate the entire work was considered pointless, because any reader contemplating the art of war knew, or should hasve known, the French version. Decker, therefore, undertook to present only those of Rogniat’s views that were relevant to German armies, and to Prussian armies in particular. He omitted passages dealing with local issues, i.e., relevant to France, as well as some of Rogniat’s broader considerations, especially to the Romans. Thus it was possible to reduce the size of the book without feeling it a detriment to its contents. From the subheading we learn that in the winter of 1816/1817, an unnamed officer had conducted a series of lectures and discussions regarding Rogniat’s theses at the General Staff, notes from which Decker made use of in the work. These comments he presented in his discussions of important issues in Rogniat’s work and therefore the translation includes Decker’s own thoughts, as well as those of the unnamed General Staff officer.17 The study was soon followed by a second edition and was generally well received. It was not until 1824 that Heinrich von Brandt undertook to write a critical review.18 The book may be regarded as representative of the views of General Staff officers regarding the art of war, as Rogniat’s theses were not only presented but thoroughly assessed. This, however, is the only manifestation of the gs’s interest as an institution in a work on military theory. An event of similar status was the publication of Rühle von Lilienstern’s Handbuch für den Offizier zur Belehrung im Frieden und zum Gebrauch im Felde,19 which according to the author was commissioned by Scharnhorst20 as a modern version of his Militairisches Taschenbuch, zum Gebrauch im Felde.21 Although it did not meet Scharnhorst’s expectations, the work aroused a broad response as a result of its official purpose and the prestige that Rühle enjoyed in the army.22 Both books were officially commissioned and constituted the first major military theory works after 1815, and as such had a considerable impact on the way Prussian officers perceived strategy.

17 On this subject in detail in Chapter 11. 18 Brandt, Ansichten über die Kriegführung im Geiste der Zeit, verglichen mit den älteren und neuern Werken über die Kriegskunst, und mit besonderer Hinsicht auf Napoleon Memoiren (Berlin, 1824). 19 R. v. L. [J.A.O. Rühle von Lilienstern], Handbuch für den Offizier zur Belehrung im Frieden und zum Gebrauch im Felde, vol. 1–2 (Berlin, 1817–1818). 20 R. v. L., ‘Ankündigung’, mwb 2, 36 (1817), 70–71. 21 G.J.D. von Scharnhorst, Militairisches Taschenbuch, zum Gebrauch im Felde (Hannover, 1792). 22 On this subject, see Chapter 10.

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Inextricably linked with the General Staff was the Allgemeine Kriegsschule (aks). Rühle played a leading role in the shaping of this school. On the 2nd of March 1816 he was nominated as a member of its governing board. Under his presidency, a three-year officers’ school proffered higher education, preparation for service in the General Staff, higher adjutancy, and generally raising qualifications.23 A decree of the 1st of September 1816 set the general principles of the institution, as well as the knowledge of the branches of higher military science that were required from the candidates.24 The purpose of the school was to introduce the candidates to all branches of the art of war, prepare them for service in the General Staff, and familiarise them with how the artillery and engineering services functioned. The aks was a distinctly elitist school, accepting only candidates with superior knowledge. The scope of studies they should independently pursue was precisely defined. The instruction stated that the officers should learn the principles essential to understanding the functioning of three types of weapon on the brigade level. Military history was of key importance, for which literature included recommended the works of Georg Friedrich von Tempelhoff, Archduke Charles, Jomini, Karl von Stutterheim, Georg von Berenhrost, Adam Heinrich Dietrich von Bülow, Scharnhorst, and various branch journals. At the highest level, however, it was considered that not knowledge but talent and experience were necessary.25 It seems that the influence of the school on the development of strategic thought, however, was limited. In the 1816–1820 curriculum, general subjects and mathematics dominated, lacking were subjects concerning the higher art of war or strategy.26 This resulted in part from the stance held by Rühle, who, in accordance with his own extensive interests, envisioned a syllabus similar to that in German universities. He believed that the main emphasis should be on philosophy and mathematics.27 This situation was much to the disliking of Clausewitz who was nominated on the 9th of May 1818 as director of the aks. On the 21st of March 1819, he sent an extensive memorandum to Minister Boyen, arguing for a number of changes in the way the school functioned and critically

23 Poten, Geschichte des Militär-Erziehungs- und Bildungswesens in den Landen deutscher Zunge, vol. 4: Preussen (Berlin, 1896), 254. 24 Ibid., 255–257; The text has also survived: GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 292, Ueber die künftige Bestimmung der allgemeinen Kriegsschule und über die Erfordernisse der Aufnahme in dieselbe, Berlin, 1st September 1816, 52–55. 25 Poten, Geschichte, vol. 4, 257. 26 Ibid., 258–259. 27 B. Schwertfeger, Die großen Erzieher des deutschen Heeres. Aus der Geschichte der Kriegsakademie (Potsdam, 1936), 43.

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a­ ssessing its state.28 Of gs officers who lectured there, he only had a high appraisal of Decker, who taught tactics, and Col. Leo von Lützow.29 He noted that only a third of the curriculum was useful. Clausewitz pointed to certain organisational shortcomings: the requirements for candidates were excessive and not adapted to what was being taught in brigade schools and the lessons were impractical, too theoretical, and too numerous. He felt the school should be more like a polytechnic than a university, and that providing students with a general education was a waste of time and money.30 In assessing the lectures, he drew attention to the fact that the subject of ‘applied tactics’ had been abandoned from the curriculum, and in any case should combine the subjects of tactics and strategy. He felt that the right person to give such lectures was of utmost importantance.31 Clausewitz also thought it essential for all lecturers, without exception, to be familiar with current army instructions, in order to be aware of the purpose for which the officers were being educated.32 Finally, he recommended that a committee should be formed to prepare a new curriculum. However, Clausewitz’s position as director was limited to administrative issues and he could not implement desired changes independently. Boyen agreed with many of his opinions, but he also did not have a decisive say over what should be included in the curriculum. Although some modifications were included in the syllabus of 1819/1820, it the aks did not significantly change perceptions of strategy.33 The situation shows the influence of the institutions on military theory and strategic thought in the first years after the Napoleonic Wars. Neither the periodicals published under the auspices of the gs nor aks curriculum focused on these subjects. The departure of Boyen and Grolman and its political and organisational consequences, had an effect on military considerations. New responsibilities prevented Rühle from continuing his active participation in publishing. The only change introduced by Müffling to the ggs structure was to make the Sektion für Kriegsgeschichte directly subordinate to the ggs chief. Until 1824 it employed two officers, only afterwards one. That officer was Maj. August Wagner, who in the 1820s was an important figure in the development 28

[‘Denkschrift über die Reform der Allgemeinen Kriegsschule zu Berlin, Berlin 21. März 1819’], Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 2, 1151–1163. 29 Ibid., 1152, 1160–1161. A similarly high appraisal of the two officers was provided by Wilhelm von Rahden, who attended the aks at the time; Rahden, Wanderungen, 50–52. 30 [‘Denkschrift über die Reform’], 1153–1156. 31 Ibid., 1161. 32 Ibid., 1162. 33 Poten, Geschichte, vol. 4, 258–259; Schwertfeger, Die großen Erzieher, 43–44; L. von Scharfenort, Die Königlich Preußische Kriegsakademie: 15. Oktober 1810–1910 (Berlin, 1910), 30–32.

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of military thought in the General Staff. Müffling had a high regard for Wagner, who had arrived from Austria. He consider him to be a person who combined a thorough knowledge of all the theoretical aspects of the Kriegswissenschaften with sound military judgment and shrewdness. He also included him among those officers who were able to think practically. His weakness, however, was his unfamiliarity with Prussian army realities, having never served in it. To compensate for this shortcoming, Müffling had even considered making him a chief of the general staff of army corps. Instead, he considered it more important to employ him in education as an examiner and in all areas where his scientific knowledge and writing abilities could be put to use,34 The scope of historical writings35 carried out by ggs officers in peacetime included reports on the course of wars and skirmishes, enemy units, fortresses, the contents of journals, and accounts of allied and enemy soldiers. Any gaps in information or needs for further explanation were to be supplemented through the study of eyewitness accounts or trips to the theatre of war. The purpose was to prepare a history of Prussian army operations. Some of the works were to be published in print, and the remainder in form of manuscripts, kept in the General Staff archive for the use of senior officers. The historical works also included the preparation of maps, battle plans, and military combat. During war, the gs was required to report of all events, to record all available information about one’s own and enemy units.36 A daily task of the ggs was to review the latest military literature, with regard to military geography and the course of wars, and also to review political and scientific journals. The task was entrusted to lieutenants, who prepared extracts from the more interesting texts for their superiors. Wagner played the special role of passing all interesting news and historical reviews to other sections.37 Müffling emphasized the development of military history research. The annual report for 1821 states that, in the Sektion für Kriegsgeschichte, Wagner researched battles of the last war which he planned for publication. The king informed Wagner of his satisfaction with the work.38 Twelve of the battles described by Wagner were published in five volumes in the years 1821–1831 as Plane der Schlachten und Treffen, welche der Preußischen Armee in der Feldzügen 1813, 14 und 15 geliefert worden, which served

34 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Müffling to Hake (draft), Berlin, 1st November 1825, 212–215. 35 Ibid., No. 3, Konzept: Instruktion für den großen Generalstab, 16–18. 36 Ibid., Über die Bestimmung, 14–15. 37 Ibid., Konzept: Instruktion für den großen Generalstab, 18v–22. 38 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C1, Instruction für die Arbeiten, s.p.

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as a source regarding the sg’s perception of tactics.39 As stated in his memoirs, Müffling allotted each of his gs officers, in accordance with their rank, wintertime tasks regarding historical research. Among selected subjects was the 1813– 1815 campaign and the Peninsular War.40 The assigned task could be either a description or a critical appraisal of a given event.41 Müffling evaluated the results of these works positively. In the spring, they were compiled and read out during a two-hour lecture, which attracted considerable interest from officers even beyond the gs.42 The officers’ works needed to be precise.43 A separate assignment initiated by the gs chief was a study of archival materials regarding the Seven Years’ War.44 The result of this work was the publication of an official history of that war in the years between 1824 and 1847, considered as a model work by uniformed historians, though its usefulness was rather limited to the military.45 Müffling attached a great deal of importance to the development of the history of war, but behind it was a scepticism concerning military theory. This was an attitude that coincided with the political atmosphere in Prussia after the conservative turn of 1819. The political change was sorely felt by the mwb editorial board, largely the fault of Decker who had become overcome by polemical fervour. Despite efforts by friends who tried to persuade him to modify the tone of his journalism, Decker eventually fell into a personal dispute with Bachofen, a lecturer at a division school in Koblenz, ending in a duel and Decker’s arrest in Erfurt.46 There, deprived of the positive influence of friends, he was embroiled in a subsequent conflict.47 According to Jähns, Decker’s personal mission was to improve the state of Prussian artillery, especially the horse artillery. To this purpose in the years 1820–1822, he published a series of articles in the mwb on the English 6-pounder gun. In these articles, he argued that this gun was superior to its Prussian equivalent. This opinion aroused a sharp reaction from the Inspector of Artillery, Prince Augustus, who forced 39

A. Wagner, Plane der Schlachten und Treffen, welche der Preußischen Armee in der Feldzügen 1813, 14 und 15 geliefert worden, Nos. 1–5 (Berlin, 1821–1831). On the writing of these works; Rahden, Wanderungen, 59–63. 40 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 263. 41 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C1, Die Arbeiten des Generalstab 1821. 42 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 263. 43 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C1, Die Arbeiten des Generalstab 1821. 44 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 263. 45 Pöhlmann, Kriegsgeschichte, 37–38. 46 On the consequences: ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 26. November 1822’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 418; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 7. Dezember 1822’, ibid., 420–421; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 14. Dezember 1822’, ibid., 422. 47 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 55.

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the editors to cease publishing such texts. Despite efforts to settle the dispute, the mwb drew upon itself the displeasure of important people in the Prussian army. Looking unfavourably on the independence of the mwb editors, Minister Hake used the situation as a pretext to propose changes.48 Circumstances favoured it – Decker’s stance in the dispute, including his attempt to argue with Prince Augustus, had angered the king. Hake, therefore, proposed that the mwb editorial office be dissolved and the periodical put under the management of the General Staff. Frederick William iii not only agreed, but in the ako of the 24th of November 1823, ordered extending censorship to all books and periodical of military provenience.49 Censorship was to be directed by Müffling, as Chief of the General Staff of the Army, but the highest level of appeal was the minister of war. Censorship commissions were established in the provinces and presided over by the Oberpräsidenten. The commissions were to comprise designated army corps’ general staff officers in Berlin, due to the number of issued works there, and an additional ggs officer assigned to the iii Army Corps commission.50 Müffling, in consultation with Hake, was assigned to write instructions for the commissions. The officer censors were to submit desiderata concerning assessed works to the provincial commissions. Any disputes, not included in the instructions, were to be referred to Müffling and the provincial President. Complaints about officers were to be directed to the gs chief. The mwb was excluded from the system and instead was censored by a special commission, comprising three ggs officers. As the person in charge of the periodical, Rühle noted that in the current political climate publishing a periodical exclusively with ‘legitimate’ articles would be a hard task. Müffling shared this point of view and was not enthusiastic about taking over the post of editor-in-chief of the mwb. In a letter to Hake, he stated that military science had played only a secondary role in the Wars of Liberation. The campaigns had, nevertheless, aroused excessive arrogance among many young officers who at an early age had experienced the ‘big wide world’, hence ideas of press freedom and the republic of scholars that had led to the establishment of the military journal. However, to maintain military secrets Müffling believed that continuing such an open periodical was contrary to the interests of the state, as not all matters it researched were suitable for publication and open discussion.51 In this spirit, on the 1st of December 1823 he issued his instruction

48 GStA pk, iii ha, MdA, No. i 9387, Hake to Bernstorff, Berlin, 21st November 1823, s.p. 49 Ibid, ako of King Frederick William iii, Berlin, 24th November 1823, s.p. 50 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit, 40. 51 Jähns, ‘Das Militair-Wochenblatt’, 291–292.

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to the military censors.52 It was based on universally accepted principles, but contained several lex specialis. The commission could prevent the printing of all or part of a text, or could allow all of it to be published. A condition was that it not violate state regulations, including offending the dignity of a neighbouring or allied state, as well as the negative appraisal of a military organisation or using offensive language with reference to Prussian military matters, or disclosing issues that according to the regulations were considered a military secret. Also invoked was the Prussian officers’ Esprit de Corps, which was to be maintained not only in service but in private life as well. This meant avoiding issues that could tarnish the reputations of Prussian officers or soldiers regardless of whether they were still in service, or deceased, and not to distort historical facts that could cast the Prussian army and its representatives in a negative light. Additionally, no documents marked secret, even if they concerned historical events, could be published without the king’s consent. Also forbidden was publishing works that revealed differences of opinion or disputes concerning state issues that could distort public opinion. The censor had the right to demand the alteration or correction of any piece of information he deemed unfit for printing. The ako granted censors sufficient authority to assess works regardless of the author’s position or rank. However, regarding the Prussian army’s hierarchical structure, in the case of texts written by generals the censor should reside with the gs chief, in order to avoid disputes over the work of the commissions. Another precautionary measure was to expand commissions by the inclusion of a specialist (e.g., from the artillery) should the subject be too technical or referred to political issues. Although the procedures appear restrictive, memoirs published in that period raise doubts whether they were strictly adhered to.53 They must have, nonetheless, contributed to limiting the freedom of military authors. The royal decree affected the editorial board of the mwb which was transferred to the General Staff. The periodical in its new form was intended to educate junior officers. The change was published in its issue of the 20th of December.54 Henceforth, the mwb would publish only general information about deployment orders and personnel changes without provid details. The number of pages was reduced by half. Major Wagner was now put in editorial charge, a peculiar situation considering that he was a member of the Censorship Committee and, therefore, his own censor. With the the 3rd of January 1824 issue, the mwb was published with the rubric ‘Editorial: Royal General Staff’. There 52 GStA pk, iii ha, MdA, No. i 9387, Instruction, Berlin, 1st December 1823, s.p. 53 The files concerning censorship are now lost; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 20v. 54 ‘An die Leser des Militair-Wocheblatts’, mwb 8, 391 (1823), 2913.

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were considerable changes in the arrangement of texts. Jähns counted that by 1830, the mwb had published three decrees, 18 brief dissertations, and 24 reviews. The dissertations usually concerned military history. A permanent feature were obituaries for deceased soldiers.55 According to Schnitter, the changes introduced in 1824 meant that up to 1867 the influence of the mwb on military theory was negligible.56 Nevertheless, 1824 did not mark an end since previously the mwb’s influence on military theory was limited. In the years 1820–1823, it had published few articles of any significance with regard to military thought, including the extensive excerpts from a work by Raimondo de Montecuccoli.57 The only really significant text from this period was an article entitled Das enthüllte Geheimniß des Strategie Napoleons, published in 1823, traces of which can be found in later literature.58 Apart from that, articles primarily concerned current affairs. This trend continued in the years 1824–1830. In addition to numerous military history works, one can find only a few texts concerning military theory.59 The most interesting of these were the writings of Wagner, who promoted his point of view, to no avail. The first was an anonymously published excerpt from his reflections on the art of war,60 which later became the introduction to his Betrachtungen und Erfahrungen über den Krieg und dessen Führung, which was published in 1830.61 This book was only acknowledged in Prussia in 183262 as a result of ongoing criticism of the works of Jomini.63 Wagner was considered to be a supporter of the Swiss military

55 Jähns, ‘Das Militair-Wochenblatt’, 292–293. 56 Schnitter, Militärwesen, 50. 57 ‘Ueber die die beständigen Grundsätze der Kriegskunst, mit Bezug auf die vorzüglichsten Kriegsschriften, von den Memoiren Montecuculis an, bis auf die heutige Zeit’, mwb 7, 326 (1822); 2397–2398; 327 (1822), 2406–2407; 328 (1822), 2413–2416; 330 (1822), 2429–2432; 331 (1822), 2438–2440; 332 (1822), 2443–2446. 58 ‘Das enthüllte Geheimniß des Strategie Napoleons’, mwb 8, 343 (1823), 2533–2536. 59 ‘Über das Studium der Kriegsgeschichte. Fragment einer Vorlesung’, mwb 9, 393 (1824), 2929–2931. 60 [Wagner], ‘Die Kriegskunst (Ein Fragment)’, mwb 12, 566 (1827), 3636–3638. 61 Wagner, Betrachtungen und Erfahrungen über den Krieg und dessen Führung, part 1: Von den großen Operationen (Berlin, 1830). 62 Z-Z, ‘Betrachtungen und Erfahrungen über den Krieg und dessen Führung. Von August Wagner, Major (jetzt Oberstleutnant) im K. Pr. Generalstabe, Erster Theil, … Berlin 1830, bei Reimer’, Militair-Litteratur-Zeitung (mlz) 13, 3 (1832), 252–269. 63 Primarily: Rühle von Lilienstern, ‘1. Introduction à l’étude des grandes combinaisons de la stratégie et de la tactique, par le Baron de Jomini. 2. Tableau analytique des principales combinaisons de la guerre, et de leurs rapports avec la politique des etats, par le Baron de Jomini etc. 3. Analytischer Abriß der vorzüglichsten Combinationen des Krieges und ihrer Beziehungen auf die Politik der Staaten. Von Baron von Jomini. Aus dem franz.

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writer,64 whom in the 1820s he had anonymously promoted in the mwb,65 and had translated one of his works.66 For this reason, Wagner’s works were depreciated in Prussia, a trend that began with his first published work Grundzüge der reinen Strategie,67 the object of the polemics of many authors in the years 1815–1830.68 For that reason, despite the office he held, Wagner’s influence on military thought in that period was limited. Likewise the mwb never became a centre of theoretical military thought, a consequence of the periodical’s chosen policy made by military authorities. In accordance with a letter of the minister of war of the 25th of January 1827, the mwb was not an official periodical, which lowered the status of its articles.69 Military circles attempted to alter this state of affairs. The first and most important of these attempts was the establishment of the Militair-LitteraturZeitung (mlz). Mittler announced the mission of this periodical on the 1st of December 1819.70 The mlz was intended for persons engaged in military writing who felt a need to be kept up-to-date with regard to publications in their fields. Due to financial and time constraints, it was not possible for such people to read all the works and periodicals. Hence, Mittler saw the need for a periodical specialising in reviews and considered himself prepared to undertake the task based on his experience in mwb. The publisher presented a six-point list of rules. The periodical was to present full and critical reviews of Prussian, German, and foreign language works immediately after their appearance in print. The reviews were to be critical, but truthful and reliable, and the reviewers were not to make issue with an author’s position or person. The editors were to be the guide to literature known to them. The subjects of the works to be reviewed were not to be restricted to strictly military matters, but would include ­ bertragen. u.s.w von A. Wagner’, Jahrbücher für Wissenschaftliche Kritik 1, 44 (1832), 351– ü 352; 45 (1832), 353–360; 46 (1832), 361–368; 47 (1832), 369–374. 64 Heuser, ‘Jomini Antoine Henri Baron de (1779–1869)’, Philosophers of War, vol. 2: The Modern World, 1815 to Present (Santa Barbara, Denver, Oxford, 2013), 62, 69–70; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 117–119, 121–122. 65 Translation of the Jomini’s brochure: Jomini, ‘Bemerkungen des Generals Jomini über Operationslinien und über einige Werke, welche die im 14. Capitel der Abhandlung über große Kriegs-Operationen aufgestellten Grundsätze bestritten haben’, mwb 14, 703 (1829), 4189–4190; 704 (1829), 4191–4193. 66 Jomini, Analytischer Abriß der vorzüglichsten Combinationen des Krieges und ihrer Beziehungen auf die Politik der Staaten als Einleitung zu der Abhandlung von den großen militärischen Operationen, transl. and ed. A. Wagner (Berlin, 1831). 67 [Wagner], Grundzüge der reinen Strategie wissenschaftlich dargestellt (Amsterdam, 1809). 68 Cf. Part iii. 69 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit, 40. 70 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 39–41.

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various auxiliary sciences such as mathematics, geography, history, military medicine, etc. It was admissable to review art if it was associated with the military. Works that had already been discussed in other periodicals were favourably looked upon, as this would create conditions for discussion and polemics. Reviews commissioned by publishers were rejected. These rules were given in the first issue, which came out on the 29th of February 1820, and were repeated in each issue that year.71 The editors from the second year onwards were Decker and Capt. Ludwig Blesson of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps who also lectured at the aks, as well being as adjutant of Gen. Gustav von Rauch. The first two had a decisive influence on the periodical in the first decade of its existence. They were also supported from the start by Ferdinand von Maliszewski. Decker and Blesson clearly defined the mlz and its status noticeably rose after they took over. The efforts of both editors ensured the highest possible standards demonstrated by the qualities of each publication included from 1820.72 They stressed that the objective of mlz reviews was to orient officers in literature regarding the subjects of their education. It was to be a substitute library. The professionalism of the periodical was manifested in the quality of reviews, which were not to be simple summaries but critiques with significant ideas relevant to the works discussed. The level of the periodical was indeed high, although the editors often exaggerated the criticism. The most forthright editor was of course Decker,73 whose style of polemics became the subject of a review by Friedrich von Ciriacy published in the mlz.74 Despite these problems, mlz is an invaluable source for works that were noticed by specialists in that period, and the way in which these works were received and perceived. Important works on strategy that that were extensively discussed in the mlz in the first decade included: Valentini’s Die Lehre vom Kriege,75 the German

71 ‘Nachricht’, mlz 1, 1 (1820), on the cover. 72 Ibid.; Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 50. 73 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 53–55; R. von Meerheimb, ‘Decker, Karl von’, Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, vol. 5 (Munich, 1877). 8–10; ‘Friedrich Karl Otto von Decker’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 6, 69–71. 74 F. von Ciriacy, ‘Ueber die wesentlichen Eigenschaften einer guten Rezension’, mlz 3, 3 (1822), 240–246. 75 [C. von Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Krieg. Zweiter Theil. Der Krieg im Grossen. Erster Band. von dem Generamajor Freiherrn v. Valentini. Auch unter dem Titel: Abhandlung über den Krieg in Bezug auf große Operationen: mit Rücksicht auf die neueren Kriege’, mlz 2, 4 (1821), 781–792; 5 (1821), 855–873; C….y [Ciriacy], ‘Die Lehre vom Krieg, Dritter Theil, Der Türkenkrieg von dem General Major Freiherrn v. Valentini. Mit 4 Plänen, Berlin 1922 bei J.W. Boike, 226 S.’, mlz 4, 2 (1823), 89–107; 3 (1823), 197–211.

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v­ ersion of Rogniat’s work,76 Decker’s Der kleine Krieg,77 Lossau’s Der Krieg. Für wahre Krieger,78 Müffling’s Betrachtungen über die grossen Operationen und Schlachten der Feldzuege von 1813 und 1814,79 and Brandt’s Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht in der höhern Kriegskunst.80 The mlz became a leading periodical, forming opinions in military thought and contributing to the emergence of a group of people who set the tone in discussions on the subject. A periodical that intended to play a similar role to mwb was the Militairische Blätter (mb), which appeared in the years 1820–1826. Its establishment was the private initiative of the Prussian officer Friedrich Wilhelm von Mauvillon. Unlike the other periodicals, this one was issued in Essen and Duisburg, Westphalia. The first issue81 informs the reader that the periodical proposes to acquire as many contributors as possible to comprehensively cover military affairs. For the sake of order and clarity, the issues were categorised. The mb included military sciences, divided into mathematics, the art of building, and weapons science; war education (Kriegsbildung), the comparison and use of various 76

Wenzell, ‘Considerations sur l’art de la guerre; par le General-Lieutnant Baron de Rogniat, 3me Edition, reveue par l’auteur – Paris – 1820- Mit Bezug auf die Werke: Remarques critiques sur l’ouvrage de M. le lieutenant-général Rogniat, par le colonel Marcelin Marbot– Paris – 1820- und Ansichten über die Kriegführung im Geiste der Zeit; nach dem ­Französischen des Rogniat bearbeitet vom Königl. Preuß. Major von Decker– Berlin 1817’, mlz 3, 3 (1822), 173–204; 4 (1822), 261–325; W, ‘Des Königlichen Französischen GeneralLeutnants Baron v. Rogniat Betrachtungen über die Kriegskunst– Übersetzt mit der von dem Königl. Franz. Obersten Marbot (Marcellin) über diese Werk bekannt gemachten Kritik(auszugweise) verbunden, und mit Anmerkungen, verfasst von dem Koenig. Gen. Maj. v. Theobald; vermehrt von M. S…., Mit 2 Steinabdrucken– Stuttgard – Gotta’sche ­Buchhandlung 1823’, mlz 6, 5 (1825), 410–428. 77 F.W. von Bismarck, ‘Der kleine Krieg im Geiste der neueren Kriegführung. Oder: Abhandlung über die Verwendung und den Gebrauch aller drei Waffen im kleine Kriege – ­Erläutert durch acht Kupfertafeln. Von C v. Decker, Maj. Im Königl. Preuß. Generalstabe. Berlin u. Posen, bei Ernst Siegfr. Mittler 1822’, mlz 3, 3 (1822), 204–221. Friedrich Wilhelm Graf von Bismarck (1783–1860) was a Württemberg Lt General, diplomat and military writer. He wrote several major military-political and military-historical works and military. Well known from his pro-Napoleonic views. In 1820s he was also ambassador in the Kingdom of Prussia; Jähns, ‘Bismarck: Friedrich Wilhelm (Graf) von B.’, Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie (adb), vol. 2 (Leipzig, 1875), 678–680. 78 ‘Der Krieg. Für wahre Krieger – Mit dem Motto: Sans peur et sans reproche – Plus etre que paraitre – Leipzig 1815. Verlag von Wilhelm Engelmann’, mlz 4, 5 (1823), 393–426. 79 X [J. von Xylander], ‘Betrachtungen über die großen Operationen und Schlachten der Feldzüge von 1813 und 1814. Von. C. v. W, Berlin und Posen 1825, 143 S.’, mlz 6, 3 (1825), 274–280. 80 ‘Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht in der höhern Kriegskunst. Zum Gebrauch in Militärschulen und für den Selbstunterricht. Von Heinrich von Brandt, königl. preuß Hauptmann. Mit zwei Plänen. viii und 363 S. in 8, Berlin 1829’, mlz 11, 2 (1830), 97–126. 81 ‘Vorerinnerung’, Militairische Blätter (mb) 1 (1820), 1–9.

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weapons, military service, recruitment, military law, the moral and physical training of soldiers; war economy, i.e., supplies, field hospitals, and replenishments; the art of war, divided into tactics and strategy; military history. The editors considered this to be a more systematic division of subjects than the tables of contents in other periodicals. This categorisation, however, was seen by the editors as not normative in that some of the concepts could be understood in various ways. An excerpt from a prospectus specified that the periodical was to be a typical military magazine, dealing exclusively with military subjects. It was to serve as an aid to military writers, but did not intend to set any standards, laws, or principles. As in the case of the mlz, it intended to serve as a guide for professional authors. The publication rules were precise. Anonymous articles were permitted provided the editors knew the identity of the author. Mauvillon emphasised the open nature of the periodical, which was not to follow any particular political line or represent a particular army or stance regarding contributions to the art of war, military science, or history of war. It was therefore not an official periodical, but semi-official due to the publisher remaining in active military service. The categorisation of subjects was reflected in the periodical’s texts. Military science and education and the history of wars were the most prevalent topics. Strictly strategic texts appeared less frequently, though when they did they incited lively responses. The periodical itself was often reviewed in the mlz.82 Emotions were aroused by an anonymous article published in the premiere volume on the fortification system in northern Germany.83 The reaction of the military community was largely negative, as was evidenced by numerous critical reviews,84 to which the author responded in the mlz.85 The mb devoted much space to the subject of army organisation and training in Prussia and abroad. Other subjects included current politics and the organisation of European armies. A valuable column concerned foreign publications, as well as news of reviews and polemics regarding articles in other periodicals. Considering its short lifespan, however, the mb could only have had a limited impact on contemporaries. The last significant initiative of the period came from the circle of mlz authors. According to Troschke, it arose from the need to cater to former readers of mwb. Decker and Blesson’s mlz could not substitute mwb because it had 82 83 84 85

E.g. ‘Militairische Blätter. Eine Zeitschrift. Herausgegeben von F.W. von Mauvillon. Erster Jahrgang. Fünftes und Sechstes Heft, für May und Juni 1820’, mlz 1, 4 (1820), 346–353. ‘Politisch strategische Betrachtungen über die Befestigung des nördlichen Deutschlands’, mb 1 (1820), 331–408; 451–475. ‘Militairische Blätter’, 346–351. ‘Bemerkungen zu dem Aufsatz: Politisch-strategische Betrachtungen von Norddeutschland, im 5ten und 6ten Heft der Militärischen Blätter 1820’, mlz 6, 3 (1825), 224–234.

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focused exclusively on reviews. With this in mind, in 1824, Decker, Blesson, and Ciriacy founded the Zeitschrift für Kunst, Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Krieges (zkwg). When presented with the purpose of the journal, Frederick William iii granted his consent, which was communicated to the publishers by Minister Hake.86 In the list of the journal’s areas of interest sent to the king, military science was only the eight item.87 The first issue came out in April of 1824. The foreword88 stated that royal consent89 obliged the journal to maintain a high standard, for the editors to create a prestigious place of reflection on German literature. The new periodical was not a temporary measure but a serious enterprise. Its interests were to be all matters of military significance. The editors argued that few areas of science or art were not associated with war, just as few realms of reality were not of interest to the military. At the base of these views was the conviction that changes that had taken place in the modern military required a new ‘educated soldier’, possessing knowledge of the world, an open mind, and a critical opinion of the dogmatism and pedantry of earlier times. This required old institutions to change. For this reason, the periodical to appeal to educated officers had to fulfil high standards and serve not as a supplementary function but as a leading specialist journal. The editors selected an historical approach as the most adequate way to present military matters in their journal. A lot was devoted to discussing both memoirs and secondary works (on all or parts of campaigns, single operations, or sieges). Texts concerning entire wars would also be permitted provided they fulfilled the criteria of clarity. Texts describing terrain, travel reports, biographies, as well as obituaries of famous figures, were valued. There were no restrictions as to the historical timeframe. The military sciences heading included the standard subjects of strategy, tactics, fortifications, weapons, science, etc. The editors had three objection. The articles should not be too abstract, so as not to lose the interest of the reader. They should concern subjects already discussed in other periodicals. And finally, they should not include excessive positions that could lead to disputes of the sort that occurred in the case of texts that compared or attacked conventional beliefs. Visible is caution against sharing  the fate of the mwb. Considering these restrictions, all other dissertations  would be published by the periodical. The art of war section would 86 GStA pk, iii. ha, MdA, No. i 9388, Hake to Schuckmann and Bernstorff, Berlin, 20th ­January 1824, s.p. 87 Ibid., Abschrift: Ankündigung, Berlin, January 1824, s.p. 88 ‘Eingangsrede’, Zeitschrift für Kunst, Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Krieges (zkwg) 1, 1 (1824), iii–xiv. 89 GStA pk, iii. ha, MdA, No. i 9388, Order of Friedrich Wilhelm iii to Hake, Berlin, 14th January 1824, s.p.

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i­ nclude i­ nformation on manuscripts and subjects requiring elaboration. From these restrictions emerges the rerpresentation of a periodical with a holistic approach primarily to the history of wars and military matters. Analysis of the contents of the periodical in the years 1826–1830 reveals only few of the works as being of significance with regard to strategy. The most interesting materials are those concerning fortresses, especially one analysing their significance to the fortification system on the north-eastern border of France.90 The periodical also published two translations of the works of Jomini91 and a biographical sketch of Berenhorst.92 Of more importantance than the texts that were published in the periodical was the consolidation of a group of officers engaged in reflecting on the art of war. Hence, the publication of Handbibliothek für Offiziere, oder: Populaire Kriegslehre für Eingeweihte und Laien by the zkwg in 1828. Twelve volumes of the series were planned, intended for officers as a comprehensive study of military history and science.93 The first volumes were published in the years 1828– 1830. Among these, Grundzüge der reine Strategie was published under the direction of Decker in 1828, one of the most important sources of knowledge on how Prussian officers perceived strategy in the late 1820s.94 Two years later, Decker published a work on Truppengeneralstab, the technical aspect of military service.95 Thanks to the success associated with the zkwg and mlz, they became the de facto centre of reflection on military theory. In ration to military authorities, the position of the two periodicals is characteristic. Both were established with the king’s consent and were allowed to function unchanged provided their activities were not contrary to the interest of the state. The ­existence of censorship guaranteed that the risk of transgression was limited. 90

‘Ueber die militairische Beschaffenheit und Vertheidigungsfaehigkeit der östlichen und nördlichen Grenze Frankreichs (Nach dem Französischen des Duchateau, und nach ungedruckten Protokollen die von Napoleon im Frühjahr 1815 niedergesetzten Verthedigungs-Komissionen)’, zkwg 2, 4 (1824), 35–74; 5 (1824), 222–261; 6 (1824), 335–350. 91 Jomini, ‘Auszug aus Jomini’s Abhandlung über die großen militairischen Operationen. (Vom Autor selbst in französischer Sprache geschrieben)’, zkwg 4, 6 (1825), 269–281; ‘Bemerkungen des Generals Jomini über Operationslinien, so wie über verschiedene Schriften, welche die im 14ten Kapitel der Traitè des grandes opèrations militaires entwickelten Grundsätze bestritten haben’, zkwg 19, 4 (1830), 48–62. 92 ‘Georg Heinrich v. Berenhorst, Verfasser der Betrachtungen über die Kriegskunst. Ein Beitrag zur Biographie desselben’, zkwg 1, 1 (1828), 60–77. 93 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 85–87. 94 [Decker], Grundzüge der praktischen Strategie (Handbibliothek für Offiziere, oder: Populaire Kriegslehre für Eingeweihte und Laien) 7 (Berlin 1828). 95 Decker, Praktische Generalstabswissenschaft. (Niederer Theil) Oder: Dienst der Generalstabes für die bei einer Division im Kriege angestellten Offiziere (Handbibliothek für Offiziere, oder: Populaire Kriegslehre für Eingeweihte und Laien) 8 (Berlin 1830).

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Even without censorship after 1823, as Eckhard Trox has claimed, in contrast to the Wars of Liberation period, there was not a single military periodical representing liberal views.96 In his opinion, the editorial boards of the periodicals were dominated by ‘royalists’, firmly adhering to the principles of ‘military monarchy’.97 The mlz and zkwg had a predetermined vision of reality corresponding to the interests of the armed forces.98 Despite the lack of formal dependence, periodical edited by officers was in complete alignment with the army, promoting the ethos of responsibility for the fate of the country. Military history studies were under the control of military authorities, who granted or denied access to archives. Far-reaching theoretical claims could easily be deemed as threatening the interests of the state and subjected to censorship. According to Schnitter, the role of the army in the development of military literature was restrictive rather than stimulating. Major changes took place in the aks after 1826, but these had a limited effect on military studies. Moltke’s diploma shows that the curriculum had not changed much in the years 1820–1826. Reforms began as a result of Rühle’s trip to Paris in 1823, during which he became acquainted with the applied mathematics method practiced at the École Polytechnique.99 Changes were introduced to the aks in 1826, when it was put under the charge of the General ­Inspector of Military Education and Training (Generalinspekteur des Militärerziehungs- und Bildungswesens) Lieutenant General Karl Friedrich von Holtzendorff. Founded in 1819, the aks had so far not had a clear mission. Its first head, Lt Gen. Otto Karl Lorenz von Pirch ii, was simultaneously in charge of the aks, the Cadet Corps, and the presidium of Militär-Studienkommision.100 His tasks included submitting to the king, in consultation with the minister of war, reports on all these institutions. After his death in 1824, Frederick William iii issued an order on the 13th of June 1825 granting Holtzendorff authority over the school and requiring him to submit semi-annual reports on the state of education.101 Holtzendorff initiated changes to the curriculum by introducing the so-called application method. In his opinion, the school should have the professional quality of a polytechnic rather than an academic university. Hence, on the 19th of May 1826, he proposed considerable changes in the teaching of general subjects and mathematics. The reformed 1826/1827 curriculum shows that the study of the principles of strategy was only possible as part of the 96 Trox, Militärischer Konservatismus, 72. 97 Ibid., 80–85. 98 Ibid., 82. 99 P. Hassel, Joseph Maria v. Radowitz, vol. 1: 1797–1848 (Berlin, 1905), 192–193. 100 Poten, Geschichte, vol. 4, 173. 101 Ibid., 173–174, 262.

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s­ ubject ‘tactical and strategic considerations’ (a single hour in the first year).102 According to Scharfenort, the situation was actually different. Tactics was taught up to 1828 in two blocks: ‘Tactics’ (3 hours in the first year) and ‘tactical and strategic considerations’. The reform became effective in 1828 and those two branches of the art of war were divided into two two-hour courses in the first two years of studies. In the first year, the history of tactics and infantry tactics were taught; in the second year, cavalry and artillery tactics, as well as how combat arms cooperated with each other. In the third year, the culmination of the military science education process was to be a course on ‘General Staff Service’, during which the principles of this service were explained by teaching the tactics of using large troop to the scale of major operation. Therefore, at the pinnacle of aks education was the study of strategy.103 The person in charge of these courses throughout the 1820s was Decker, who taught both ‘Tactics’ and ‘General Staff Service’. In the 1829/1830 year, the ‘History of Warfare’ was introduced and taught by Brandt. During that period the teaching of the art of fortification was the responsibility of Blesson. It was evident that officers who were creating military periodicals were also those who were teaching at important military schools. The curriculum, however, limited their teaching of higher levels of strategy. This was a consequence of Müffling’s system, according to which an gs officer was to be the assistant of a commander, under whom he would acquire the experience essential to understanding the higher art of war. Brandt considered the level of teaching at the aks to be minimum. He believed the school was in such a state of disorganisation that could hardly be said that it was fulfilling the curriculum. Despite the efforts of many, Clausewitz in particular, little was achieved in improving the situation. According to Clausewitz, this was partly due to the various intrigues, including that of the Duke of Mecklenburg, who incited students against lecturers. What was taught at the school was still too general and not adapted to what was really required. Clausewitz felt the method of teaching was inadequate to provide students criticism of the authority of seniors regardless of their still meagre knowledge of warfare. Brandt’s opinion was that there were decidedly fewer thoroughly educated officers in the 1820s then before 1806.104 It was evident that the nomination of Valentini as General Inspector of Military Education and Training in October 1828 could not have changed the situation much. Although he had acquired a decisive influence shaping the curricula of the

102 Ibid., 264. 103 Scharfenort, Kriegsakademie, 80–81. 104 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 18–21.

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d­ ivisional schools and the aks, it did not significantly assist officers to increase their knowledge of military science.105 The institutional influence on Prussian strategic thought in the 1815–1830 period was limited. This largely stemmed from the conviction that even at its highest level, the art of war could not be described, let alone taught. This was reserved for a commander facing the actual challenge of war. Any real ­considerations could only concern material issues, i.e., the preparation for war. Hence, military authorities were sceptical about attempts to generalise ­strategy. Boyen and Grolman believed that operational plans were a matter of chance and circumstances. Müffling was of the opinion that an educated officer should primarily possess professional skills that were useful during war, rather than the ability to consider highly abstract problems. Most of the senior commanders were far from taking into account the opinions of young, inexperienced officers. However, literature on military theory in the period was ­undergoing dynamic developments, with considerable contributions from people who played a significant role in the army. 105 Poll, Valentini, 173–178.

Part 2 Prussian Defence Planning in the Years 1815–1830

∵

Introduction to Part 2 Prussian defence planning in the fifteen years after the end of the Napoleonic Wars was not an easy undertaking. There did not exist a standard doctrine held throughout the army. The lack of a single institutions responsible for creation the Prussian perspective on strategy in peacetime was making this task difficult. Any consistent doctrine can only be discerned in the case of the gs officers, who nevertheless lacked any decisive influence over senior commanders. The situation did not change once the General Staff was separated from the Ministry of War in 1825. In fact it had a negative impact on the effectiveness of gs officers, who now were simply another auxiliary corps for senior commanders. Any influence Müffling had on state defence was dependent on the will of the monarch in cooperation with the Minister of War Hake, worked with variable success. The General Staff, which officially was supposed to serve as a centre of consultation on strategy, in practice had no means of implementing decisions. The king was unquestionably the highest authority, and therefore relations with Frederick William iii, and not the formal position anyone held, was decisive for the creation of Prussian strategy. In this situation, people who were potentially able to affect the planning of strategy probably included 20 names.1 Of course, any one of these person’s ideas did not affect the development of strategy. In most cases it is not even possible to trace their military service or literary achievements. However, these people, many kgs, were members of an influential group of ‘military intellectuals’ who were capable of affecting current strategy through new approaches to the problem. Presentation of Prussian defence planning in the years 1815–1830 is entirely dependent on available sources. Boyen is one of the people whose views on military theory are known, whose outlook can be supplemented by the opinions of Grolman. The relationship between these two officers has been described as a ‘marriage based on Catholic principles’2 in reference to the convergence of their views and actions, as well as a loyalty demonstrated by Grolman’s behaviour in 1819. The writings of Grolman, the first director of the 2nd Department, have not survived.3 Much can be deduced, however, by the views of 1 Two ministers of war, two directors of the Ministry of War 2nd Department, the Chief of the General Staff of the Army, and the 16 kg. To these can be added people who at various times enjoyed the Prussian monarch’s trust (e.g. Gneisenau, Witzleben and Knesebeck) as well as the Chief of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps Rauch and no doubt some of the more influential divisional commanders, such as Natzmer and Grolman. 2 Felgermann, Krauseneck, 216. 3 Karl von Damitz in cooperation with Grolman published historical works concerning the 1814–1815 campaigns, their contents, however, does not reveal any information about the

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Boyen when supported by extant statements of his subordinate. The availability of these sources, taking into account views of provincial commanders, allow a relative tracing of defence planning processes in the years 1815–1819. The 1820s are more problematic. Hake left no writings that shed light on his views regarding strategy,4 and there are only traces of information on the subject in the documentation of his actions in the Prussian military. The writings of Müffling that have survived may be relevant to his views on strategy, but their analysis is difficult. Herbert von Böckmann’s assessment is that during their terms in office Grolman and Müffling devoted very little time to analysing the significance of war and the Napoleonic period.5 Even if not a fair appraisal, it represents how little has been researched into the views of these two historical figures. The situation is even more sparse with regard to concepts of strategy, where the sources are extremely fragmentary. Some are unsigned sketches that are difficult to place in context. Moreover, secondary sources are usually biased and overly critical of Müffling. A recreation of the defence planning process in the 1820s is hardly possible, yet it is essential to examine available sources in order to verify contemporary verdicts in literature to allow for an attempt to reconstruct views on strategy of at least some of decision-makers in the Prussian army. military theory views of the 2nd Department chief; K. von Damitz, K. von Grolman, Geschichte des Feldzugs von 1815 in den Niederlanden und Frankreich: als Beitrag zur Kriegsgeschichte der neuern Kriege, parts 1–2, (Berlin, 1837–1838); Damitz, Grolman, Geschichte des Feldzuges von 1814 in dem östlichen und nördlichen Frankreich bis zur Einnahme von Paris: als Beitrag zur neueren Kriegsgeschichte, parts 1–3 (Berlin, 1842–1843). In the past, there also existed Grolman’s archival legacy, as is testified by annotations in surviving inventories; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 A, No. 884, Kriegs-Archiv, Sektion ii, 31. 4 An extensive file on the fate of Hake’s non-professional documents left after his death in Naples still exists; GStA pk, iii. ha, MdA, i No. 9368, Nachlaß des in Neapel verstorbenen Generals und Staatsministers von Hacke, Aug. 1835–Okt. 1837. 5 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 125.

Chapter 6

The Strategic Views of Hermann von Boyen and Karl von Grolman Carl Röchling’s well-known lithograph of a session of the Prussian Reorganisationmomission in 1807 depicts a pantheon of the most important figures of the then reformed Prussian army. Together with the king, one can see three duos of reformers: Stein and Hardenberg, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, as well as of course Boyen and Grolman. That last two, today somewhat forgotten, were once surrounded by universal respect and admiration in the Prussian army. One of the bastions of Posen fortress, built in the years 1840–1843, was named after Grolman, whereas the entire Lötzen fortress, built in 1844–1856, was named after Boyen. In both cases, the construction of the fortifications was the culmination of decades of relentless efforts and concerns of the two officers for these provinces. In both the Grand Duchy of Posen and East Prussia, the two Prussian reformers and personal friends demonstrated a remarkable consistency in the aspirations and goals they shared. Writing Boyen’s biography in the late 19th century, Friedrich Meinecke stated that his contributions to military theory were completely unknown.1 Despite the existence of thousands of manuscript pages, this opinion is still considered valid.2 Meinecke’s biography is still the only work that deals with Boyen’s texts, albeit in a cursory way.3 This has been noted in the latest edition of Boyen’s writings by Hans Rothe, who claims that Meinecke made no real contributions in this area. He had familiarised himself with the material but decided not to publish it the way Clausewitz’s legacy has been.4 Rothe accused Meinecke of discussing Boyen’s legacy in a superficial manner. Moreover, he accused the biographer of restricting Boyen’s perception to that of a military author, failing to reveal his research interests.5 Although Rothe’s comments are to an extent valid, in his own book the military aspects of Boyen’s writings is 1 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 444. 2 Limited use of Boyen’s works was made by: Brose, The Politics, 185–186. 3 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 444–470. 4 There is to noted that one of Boyen’s writing has been published by Werner Hahlweg; ‘Aufzeichnungen des Generaldfeldmarschalls Hermann von Boyen über Wissenschaft, Kriegswissenschaft, Militärtheorie und Philosophie’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 2, 1211–1215. 5 Hermann von Boyen, 287.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���� | doi:10.1163/9789004438439_008

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marginalised. Rothe considers Meinecke’s biography as incomplete, however I cannot agree that Meinecke is responsible for perceiving Boyen as a ‘Schriftsteller-­Soldat’. Apart from his views on the Landwehr,6 Boyen’s opinions about military matters are not known, and since in his day he was perceived more as a politician in uniform rather than an actual soldier7 it is pointless to consider his opinions concerning military thought. A basic problem in researching Boyen’s literary legacy is the state in which his works have been preserved. In their entirety, they are a collection of manuscripts, whose dating is difficult to determine.8 In the second volume of Boyen’s biography, Meinecke included a list of 14 works concerning military sphere from the Minister of War’s legacy.9 Not all of them can be found in the BerlinDahlem archive.10 It is interesting that in that same archive several files contain titles not mentioned on the list, though perhaps Meinecke simply misnamed these titles. The lack of reference numbers in the biography, however, makes this riddle difficult to solve. Regardless, ignoring such important historical sources would hinder any appraisal of Prussian strategic principles, not only during Boyen’s term in office. According to Meinecke, the contents of these texts were known only to the minister’s closest friends,11 which illustrates 6

Stübig, ‘Entwicklung der preußisch-deutschen Armee im 19. Jahrhundert’, Die Preußische Armee. Zwischen Ancien Regime und Reichsgründung, ed. P. Baumgart, B.R. Kroener and H. Stübig (Paderborn- Munich-Vienna-Zürich, 2008), 247–260; Schmidt, Die preußische Landwehr, 105–131. 7 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 117, 121; Craig, The Politics, 69–75; Kitchen, A Military History, 40–67. 8 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 339, Über Festungsanlagen der gegenwärtigen Zeit, Eigenh. 1819; ibid., No. 439, Über Kriegerischen Geist, 1820–1830; ibid., No. 440, Beiträge zur Kenntnis des Krieges, 1820–1830; ibid., No. 441, Über Kriegsmotive, Objekte, Formen und die gegenwärtige Kriegsführung, 1820–1830; ibid., No. 442, Über die geistigen und körperlichen Eigenschaften des Kriegers und über die Waffen; ibid., No. 444, Über die Entwickelungsgang des Krieges, aus der 1820 Jahren; ibid., No. 445, Betrachtungen über verschiedene militärische Gegenstände (nach 1824); ibid., No. 446, Materialien zur Kenntnis des gegenwärtigen Zustandes der Kriegführung (nach 1825/1826); ibid., No. 447, Wie hat sich der Krieg zu seinem gegenwärtigen Standpunkte ausgebildet?, 1830–1840; ibid., No. 487, Promemoria zum Militärwesen, 1823–1824; ibid., No. 502, Die Strategie (1830–1840). 9 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 445. 10 Militärische Notizen; Materialien zu einer Gefechtslehre (nach 1826); Versuch einer geschichtlichen Darstellung des Entstehens und der weiteren Entwickelung der gegenwärtigen Kriegseinrichtung; Geschichtliche Betrachtungen über das Gefecht; Gefechtslehre (1834); Einleitung in die Kriegsgeschichte; Über die Elementartaktik der verschiedenen Waffe; Zur Gefechtskenntnis. 11 Though not only. There was also an exchange of ideas and opinions with Prince Augustus concerning western border defence system in the late 1830s; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 506, Versuch eines Vertheidigungs Plans; ibid., No. 4, Prince Augustus to Boyen, Berlin,

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the way in he perceived matters related to strategy. There is a problem determining when these documents were written. Most were likely created after 1819, i.e., after Boyen’s resignation. This raises the question whether one can assess his term in office on the basis of views he later held. However, it does seem that his later views were based on what he had experienced during active service, which allows us to assume that the documents reflect outlooks he held when in office. One cannot help but agree with Meinecke that with regard to the defence of borders, their fortification, and the organisation of Prussian forces Boyen remained an incurable idealist, barely able to detect changes in the art of war.12 Meinecke noted that a considerable difficulty arises from the fact that Boyen had the habit of writing multiple texts on subjects that interested him. Moreover, most of the texts appear unfinished, virtually in the form of a sketch.13 Thus, Boyen’s writing legacy does not constitute a coherent depicture that one can extract from the mass of works the most relevant material. Not all military issues interested the minister of war to the same degree. Meinecke mentioned primarily the anthropology of war, the study of terrain, the study of combat, and, in particular, the army organisation and tactics. Meinecke stressed that it would be futile to search for mention of Clausewitz’s ideas in Boyen’s writings. Meinecke, nevertheless, saw a common ground between the two officers with regard to military studies. Both were sceptical about the teaching of positive sciences based on the principles of mathematics and rigid rules. Instead of dogmatic deduction, both were more in favour of historical induction, based on actual experience.14 According to Boyen, at some point military science began limiting the perception of strategy solely to geometric forms, as in the case of tactics, while ignoring factors stemming from the experience of armed conflicts. This trend was particularly noticable after the Seven Years’ War, when not only military science but the actual waging of war was subjugated to mathematical rules.15 Boyen instread believed that man should 20th April 1839, 1; GStA pk, bph, Rep. 57 iii, No. 123, Über die Vertheidgung kleineren Staaten gegen grosser mit Rucksicht auf die Vertheidugung von West-Deutschland gegen Frankreich, April 1839, s.p.; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 5, Boyen to Prince Augustus, 30th April–3rd May 1839, 1–2; ibid., No. 6, Prince Augustus to Boyen, Berlin, 3rd May 1839, 1. One can also point to examples of consultations with other persons. 12 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 493–495, 529–535. This is demonstrated, for example, by his instance on fortifying the right bank of the Vistula. Unfortunately, 1840 documents regarding this subject have not survived in the Dahlem file; GStA pk, iii. ha, MdA, No. i 9774 Anlage von Befestigungen auf dem rechten Weichselufer 1843–1847. 13 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 445. 14 Ibid. 15 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 446, Materialien, 9–10.

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be at the centre of contemplation on war, and therefore more attention should be paid to anthropology. Otherwise, he felt military science would become an empty form. This concerned strategy as well, which should be perceived from the perspective of leaders from the past, the unity of the people, and other elements not as an elaborate game of chess.16 For Boyen a key role should be history17 as a guide to defining contemporary goals.18 An analysis of the experiences of predecessors was human nature, and it was natural to base the analysis on the experiences of the previous conflicts. The study of war should be based on solid foundations, particularly on a thorough analysis of the past. The military author should examine battles and military operations to draw conclusions and formulate general rules (Regeln) similarly to how a physician analyses patients. It would, however, be wrong to blindly apply the rules, e.g., those derived from the Battle of Leuthen, to all cases.19 Every war has its own unique set of rules.20 Boyen was consistently sceptical of works focused on a single branch of the military science, considering their value limited.21 He considered it as mistake to restrict the analysis of a war to its battles while not taking into account preparations that led to them. Boyen divided wars into two categories: artificial wars (Künstlichekriege) and natural wars (Natürlichekriege).22 The objective of natural war was to destroy the enemy. The aim of artificial war, on the other hand, was to counteract anticipated enemy movements and thus limit their aggression. One of these type of war could easily transform into the other.23 According to Meinecke, natural war was the type waged by Napoleon, whereas artificial war was seen in 18th-century strategic manoeuvres where a battle was only one of the means of resolving conflicts.24 Boyen was not especially spellbound by the successes of Napoleon’s campaigns. He had doubts as to whether 16 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 446. 17 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 446, Materialien, 19. 18 Ibid., No. 444, Über die Entwickelungsgang, 1. 19 Ibid., No. 440, Beiträge, 7–8. 20 F. Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 446. 21 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 440, Beiträge, 2–3. 22 The obvious similarity of both designation to Clausewitz’s terminology needs the short glossary. There is no evidence that Boyen shared exactly Clausewitz’s ideas or was inspired of them. Boyen’s views were in my opinion less complex and more dualistic. Limited Künstlichekriege concept was simply opposite to the one-solution oriented Napoleonic scheme of warfare. Boyen’s point of view related more to the tools of warfare than political nature of war. About similarities in views of Boyen and Clausewitz see Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie, 226, 260–261. 23 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 446, Materialien, 11–12. 24 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 447.

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Napoleon had introduced something new, for he had inherited a well-­ established defence system, only slightly affected by the French Revolution. In Bonaparte’s campaigns, e.g., in 1812, Boyen noted a synthesis of old and new trends, but nothing especially new in his tactics. He attributed Napoleon’s successes to numerical superiority and the morale of his troops. The source of Napoleon’s triumphs, according to Boyen, stemmed from his victory at Lodi in 1796 that he continued to follow and which, ultimately, led to his defeat at Waterloo. He had overlooked changes in the enemy’s tactics, especially Wellington’s campaign in Spain.25 Bonaparte succeeded in specific circumstances, therefore Boyen did not entirely reject the ancien regime art of war, which was a consequence of 18th-century socio-political realities.26 Even Frederick the Great, whose army had a higher morale than its opponents, could not resist line tactics due to the foreigners in its ranks.27 Changed conditions after 1815 forced each state to develop a defence system adequate to its infrastructure and potential resources. For Boyen, this broadened the interest in military science. Changes that occurred after the French Revolution created a ‘new war’ based on making use of the land, main battles, mass attacks, large mobility, reduced supply trains, conducting operations without depots, and, above all, deploying a greater numbers of troops.28 The result was the involvement of entire nations in the hostilities.29 The examples of the Peninsular War and the intervention against the revolution in Naples showed that conflicts could be won without major battles.30 In these circumstances, the perception of the art of war, as preparation for, the fighting, and the victory in battles (Gefecht), based on the concentration of forces with the spirit to fight, was no longer tenable. On the basis of recent experiences, Boyen believed attention should be focused on Gefechtslehre, especially its most elementary part, tactics, as opposed to a scientific approach to the preparation for war. Boyen was particularly opposed to teaching soldiers prescribed maneuvers, which he felt was good only for parades and revues. He felt it was easier to prepare positions, camps, supplies, and other resources in peacetime, so that things would be ready in the event of war.31 Confirmation was provided by the wars of ­Louis xiv, which showed how victories change little without securing resources for further action. The French monarch had shown the need to create a 25 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 445, Betrachtungen, 71–74. 26 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 447–448. 27 Ibid., 447–449; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 445, Betrachtungen, 56–66. 28 ‘Boyens Darstellung’, 62. 29 See Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie, 257. 30 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 446, Materialien, 24–32. 31 Ibid., 1–4.

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‘­system of war leadership’ (System der Krieges Führung).32 Key to such a creation was the concept of nation, which was especially significant in the case of Prussia’s military system. Against the will of its subjects, not even the Sun King’s Secretary of State for War, the Marquis de Louvois, would have been able to achieve anything.33 According to Meinecke, Boyen differed from Clausewitz in attitudes to the waging of war. The author of Vom Kriege was primarily interested in the ‘great war’, major operations to achieve strategic goals. Boyen, however, was primarily interested in the preparation for war.34 In one of his writings, he proposed a division of the study of war into knowledge of war (Krieges Kunde), the elements of war (Krieges Elemente), defence of the country (Landes Verteidigung), and the organisation of war (Krieges Organisation).35 Boyen understood strategy as a collection of actions essential to the waging of war. He divided them into four categories: Wehr Lehre, the study of operations, war economics, and war politics.36 In his extant writings, he devoted his attention to the first category including the study of the taking of positions and the actual fighting of battles, the study of human behaviour during fighting, the study of discipline, and the study of tactics.37 All elements that belong, essentially, to the study of tactics. Boyen defined tactics as principles concerning the use of particular arms, positions, and the fighting of battles (elementary tactics) and their cooperation (general applied tactics).38 These definitions do not seem precise as elements of tactics and Wehr Lehre overlap. The study of operations was derived from knowledge of various wars, both in a military and political sense, both defensive and offensive. Also considered were the forces involved and the creation of operational plans, instructions on the use of main forces with camps and auxiliary forces, the establishment of a base, and the issuance of decrees, which had more to do with higher levels than with Wehr Lehre rooted in tactics. The economics of war was to supply units with munitions and engineering facilities, provisions for people, horses, and uniforms. The purpose of the politics of war was to follow the examples of leaders in exploiting situations for the benefit of the military system.39 Such a perception of strategy seems neither clear nor complete; it is difficult to see connections between the 32 Ibid., 6–7. 33 Ibid., 41–42. 34 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 449–452. 35 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 440, Beiträge, 9–10. 36 Ibid., 20–25; ibid., No. 502, Die Strategie, 1–2. 37 Ibid., No. 502, Die Strategie, 2–11. 38 Ibid., 2–5; ibid., No. 445, Betrachtungen, 25–38. 39 Ibid., No. 440, Beiträge, 20–25.

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various elements. To define military science as the defence of country was to take into account conditions in one’s own country as well as that of the enemy (Vertheidigungs System); to assess how many troops to deploy for defence; to assess the advantages and disadvantages of sections of the country in reference to defence; to build a national defence system; to establish peacetime planning of essential communication routes, fortresses, and depots; to increase armed forces; to consider the financial and political basis for the defence; and to consider the peacetime potential of own’s forces.40 Boyen distinguished between the preparation for war from fighting a war. Strategy in his sense referred to actions taken after the outbreak of war, i.e., to the actual waging of war. Preparation for war concerned peacetime actions concerned with forming a defence system. Boyen argued that every soldier who wanted to broaden his knowledge of the science of war should consider the principles (Grundsätzen) the state’s defence system (Vertheidigungs System) was based on, how that defence system was used by to create a war system (Krieges System), how to tactically divide units in peacetime and wartime, and how to educate the armed forces in peacetime and wartime.41 By ‘defence system’, Boyen understood all actions taken during peacetime to face a potential enemy on both a local and a national scale.42 The defence system comprised four parts: strategy, organisation, fortification, and tactics.43 Boyen described the strategic component as the military and political study through which armed forces were prepared against potential enemy forces, including their auxiliary forces (Huelfsquellen). The study need not concern all the enemy forces, but only those that could be used against the state. If a state had, for instance, three powerful neighbours, that increased the variants of possible attack and required a different positioning of military units. Not only the number of enemy troops but their resources should be taken into account, i.e., financial resources and lines of communication. Boyen believed the enemy’s art of war was reflected in their defence system. He considered it important to know whether enemy units were kept on a constant war footing or whether they required mobilisation. Once that was determined, it would be possible to define and organise the tasks necessary for the country’s defence. Border provinces and internal provinces need to be part of the same system and rules needed to be set on how to act in a war situation. Mobilisation of masses needed to be carried out in such order to ensure that 40 41 42 43

Ibid., 25–28. Ibid., No. 445, Betrachtungen, 1–2. Ibid., 4–5. Ibid., 7.

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their needs were met. The state was required to define the shape of the armed forces, taking into account their position and the position of enemy forces, to estimate the economic potential of the nation to determine the deployment of armed forces, and to raise the morale for support of war.44 In threatened areas, this system had to be secured by means of protection (Schutzmitteln), i.e., fortresses and fortifications. Finally, there was the matter of tactics, i.e., use of arms, troop positions and movements to force the enemy to abstain from attacking.45 Boyen distinguished the defence system from the war system (Kriegs System), to actions by which the commander directed the campaign and made use of available resources.46 The main element of the war system were conditioned by state policy (conquest, close defence, waging war individually or in an alliance), by resources under at the disposal of the commander; by diplomatic service and an assessment of one’s own and enemy forces; by the conditions (infrastructure, economy) of the province’s theatre of warfare (Schauplatz), by the character of the enemy leader and his subordinates, and by the physical qualities of forces.47 According to Boyen, the war system resulted primarily from national character, demonstrated by him using numerous historical examples.48 He drew two conclusion: the defence system should be distinguished from the war system. The former should be engaged in general preparations, while specific orders should be left to the latter. Overly specific preparations in peacetime rarely proved effective in wartime. Each country should have a war system determined not at restraining an enemy, but at defeating it. This required cooperation between a ruler and his subjects, and between the capital and the provinces.49 Boyen perceived strategy in a dual manner, on the one hand as the country’s preparation for war, and on the other as the actual waging of war. The first was more important, because it could be presented as certain tasks to be implemented in peacetime. This resembles Grolman’s opinions concerning defensive and offensive plans.50 A defence plan involved the deployment of forces supported by ramparts, fortresses, and other points of resistance.51 Members of the ‘duumvirate’ agreed that waging 44 Ibid., 11–14. 45 Ibid., 15–38. 46 Ibid., 39–40. 47 Ibid., 41–42. 48 Ibid., 42–68. 49 Ibid., 74–75. 50 Bremm, Von der Chaussee, 29–30; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 40–41; Kessel, ‘Grolman und die Anfänge des Preußischen Generalstabs. Zum 100. Todestag am 15. September 1943’, mwr 9, 3 (1944), 127–128. 51 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 2–3.

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war was immeasurable and, therefore, should be perceived as exclusively a domain of the commander. Boyen believed that a commander had to possess all talents in leading a campaign during a war.52 Considerations for waging war in his texts were in vain, a waste of time. On paper it is easy to defeat Caesar.53 In practice, however, the commander was like a physician approaching a patient’s bed, needing to modify remedies to encountered conditions, which are always unique.54 According to Meinecke, these views were the reason for the frequent discussion of the ‘small war’ issues in the writings of Boyen. The Prussian minister of war felt that the ‘small war’ and sieges were the only practical training that could be provided to officers and soldiers. These were the only aspects of war that could be taught to officers and soldiers during peacetime. Maneuvers were a relic of the old system, which had nothing to do with real war.55 The human factor was a main area of Boyen’s research interests. He held that in an armed conflict one should look not only at the physical strength but at the morale of the opposing forces. Boyen felt that key elements of war were human spirit and organisation.56 Therefore, military studies should always take into account physical and moral aspects in the preparation for war.57 This was a contradiction to the 18th-century attitude to soldiers. Underlying these opinions was Boyen’s conviction that defence of the country was the task of the whole nation. The older training of unthinking followers of orders had to be replaced with the education of creative and independent ­soldier-citizens. The role of the state was to inculcate soldiers with a sense of duty and love of the fatherland.58 Boyen’s ideal was a spontaneous participation of subjects in the defence of a country against invasion.59 To achieve this depended on the character of a nation, its religion as well as education.60 Boyen believed that the most important task of the state was to prepare its inhabitants morally and physically to fight against a possible aggression. A constant element in his writings and memoranda was that in the case of an invasion of Prussia, the first action was to mobilise inhabitants of an invaded province, who using irregular

52 Ibid., No. 443, Erster Entwurf, 2. 53 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 449. 54 Ibid., 450. 55 Ibid., 449–451. 56 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 446, Materialien, 96–100. 57 Ibid., 177–180. 58 Ibid., 100–106. 59 Ibid., 105–106. 60 Ibid., 151–165.

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warfare methods could hold back the invader.61 This was an identical view held by Grolman. The military system of Prussia, in his opinion, was unique in Europe and its maintenance was essential in preserving the country’s independence from stronger neighbours.62 His inspection of provinces beyond the Elbe established the need for a defence system based on waging a small war supported by knowledge of one’s own terrain,63 strengthened by defence positions of ramparts and fortifications. Grolman’s instructions showed that the description of the terrain had to include all elements that could potentially be important in future actions.64 Roadways were naturally of importance,65 creating the army’s lines of operation, as were watercrossings, as well as those that were sheltered by forests, swamps, and lakes. Grolman recommended assessing particular points with reference to their potential for deploying troops. From an operational perspective, a thorough assessment of the resources and potential of the province was necessary. The descriptions allowed for an assessment of the operational usefulness of whole areas, in particular with regard to the movement of troops, the constraint of enemy force manoeuvres and supply of resources.66 Grolman assumed that every province had its Stützpunkte, key points that controlled specific ranges of terrain.67 These were assumptions, underlying regulations for General Staff officers, that were shared by Boyen. He believed that properties of a terrain were significant to both sides in a conflict. For this reason, precise knowledge of one’s own territory was a key element in the creation of the defence system.68 The first task in describing a country for military purposes was to create the simplest possible geometric outline of its surface, which included both geographic (natural) and political borders. Main lines revealed ‘attack fronts’ (Angriffsfronten), the enemy’s lines of operation, which determined the amount of troops that would be required. In the case of an enemy with numerically superior forces, Boyen argued it was necessary to construct a number of ‘defence areas’ (Vertheidigungsflächen) in the border regions. The next task was to create a topographic description of these lines as well as the provincial territories directly behind them. The lines should follow natural obstacles in 61

Ibid., No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, s.p.; ibid., No. 309, Nach welchen Grundsätzen der Umfang der preuß. Kriegsmacht zu bestimmen ist, s.l., 1817, 3–4. 62 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 41; Kessel, ‘Grolman’, 128. 63 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 2–3. 64 Cf. Chapter 4. 65 Cf. Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 120. 66 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 292, Instruction für die practischen Arbeiten, 46–49. 67 Kessel, ‘Grolman’, 128. 68 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 446, Materialien, 185–194.

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the terrain.69 Boyen included three groups of opposimng elements as the basis for a military description of terrain: Krieges Punkte – Todte Punkte, Krieges ­Linien – Todte Linien, and Krieges Flächen – Todte Flächen. Krieges Punkte meant every point in the terrain that could be used and Todte Punkte as those unsuitable. Krieges Linien were natural obstacles behind which one’s own troops could be deployed, or along which troops could pass from one point to another. Todte Linien were the opposite. Finally, Krieges Flächen were areas suitable for armed conflict. These Boyen divided into Stellungsflächen and Bewegungsflächen, i.e., those due to position or on the ability to move. Todte Flächen were areas with lakes, swamps, or other features that prevented military action.70 Of particular importance were lines that Boyen divided into external and internal.71 In another text, he treated the description of terrain into areas suitable for fighting, ones suitable for marching, and ones suitable for resting.72 A full understanding of the area required knowledge of the ‘war field’ (Kriegesfeld), i.e., the area separated from other Kriegesfelde through which troops marched. ‘War districts’ (Kriegeskreise) were essential to the waging of war, encompassing regions with natural boundaries that required the organisation of detachments and crossings. War provinces (Kriegesprovinz) linked the Kriegeskreise in the theatre of war, though for the deployment of forces only those parts relevant to the operation needed to be known. Similarly, terrain intended for military action could be divided into ‘operation fields’ (Operationfeldes). Areas where units were detached from main forces, e.g., patrols (Operationsbezirke) were essential for an army’s action, an ‘operational region’ which an army defended from a designated point. Finally, the ‘operations province’ (Operationsprovinz), which included all the Operationskreise essential to carry out an operational plan.73 Generally speaking, Boyen felt that it was the duty of every officer to study the terrain in detail, all conditions and resources of a potential warzone.74 Taking these elements into account, Boyen divided countries with sheltered borders into three categories: those sheltered by nature, those sheltered by culture, and those sheltered by fortifications. In the first case, were protections provided by forests, mountain ranges, hills, swamps, lakes, or other natural barriers. In the second category, he included forms of housing, farming, and other socio-economic factors.75 The most important 69 70 71 72 73 74 75

Ibid., 196–198. Ibid., 232–233. Ibid., 235–236. Ibid., No. 440, Beiträge, 14–15. Ibid., 17–19. Ibid., No. 446, Materialien, 296. Ibid., 271–278.

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d­ efensive element was the art of fortification, which he discussed as a separate issue. Fortification was the main activity of the Prussian state in preparing for defence in the first years after the Napoleonic Wars. The importance attached to fortifications resulted from the geographical position of Prussia and from the convictions of Boyen and Grolman. The Prussian minister of war devoted space in his writings to the issue of fortified camps and fortresses, opinions that were original. Boyen believed that only a small part of Prussia had an advantageous border with its neighbours due to natural barriers and population density, a situation that made an attack on the country likely. Against such an eventuality, protection (Schutzmitteln) had to be provided in the form of fortresses and field fortifications. Boyen believed this to be the case for all states. The terrain and natural obstacles had to be fortified to form a defence system.76 Boyen’s stance on border fortifications was characteristic. He acknowledged that criticism of border fortifications in periods of peace was justified. Their maintenance required sums of money that seemed to be badly invested. Such opinions were strengthened by examples of fortresses not properly used during armed conflicts, such as the fortresses constructed according to Sébastien de Vauban along the north-eastern border of France. Connected with hundreds of communication lines, each of these strongholds was built to defend itself in perpetuity. Yet, during the 1815 campaign, allied forces broke through the fortresses with ease.77 According to Boyen, this was due to the fact that the fortresses were undermanned.78 Grolman’s arguments were similar. In his opinion, fortresses should fulfil four basic functions: to secure a province’s resources to be used by defending forces and not by the invader; to provide shelter and recuperation for one’s army; to retain as long as possible control of the terror after having left; and to make possible the commencement of an offensive. The director of the 2nd Department believed that a system of fortresses could prevent enemy forces from intruding into provinces only in a short section in the Alps. This, he wrote, had been demonstrated in the case of France, whose powerful fortresses twice failed to prevent the invasion of allied forces in 1814 and 1815. Therefore, considering the required outlay, the creation of an extensive system of fortifications was futile.79 Both generals believed that the building of fortifications had to take into account the nature of terrain,

76 77 78 79

Ibid., No. 445, Betrachtungen, 14–15. Ibid., 15–19. Ibid., No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, s.p. Ibid., No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 1–5; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 41.

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­ otential resources, and the curent military system. Boyen felt conclusion p could be drawn from the 1812 campaign. Despite initial successes on the battlefield, the greatest impact were on the isolated fortresses in Riga and Babruysk. Napoleon’s victorious battles involved the storming of enemy fortifications or ramparts, which sapped the strength of his forces. Here, Boyen saw an analogy with Charles XII, whose successes ended at the Russian ramparts of Poltava.80 Bearing this in mind, he consistently opposed major fortification systems. It was more advantageous to have single fortified points in each province, enabling the concentration of forces and putting up the longest possible defence to allow for an army to assemble. These fortified points were to control road links and, therefore, had to be located in places where a supporting army could be deployed.81 Boyen envisioned not only fortresses, but also elements of state infrastructure adapted for the purpose. Two memoranda address this subject. The Ideen zur Erbauung eines Landwehrzeghauses82 text of December 1817 is cited by Bonin and Meinecke.83 Boyen argued that the issues of universal conscription and fortification in the provinces were closely connected. Estates were obliged in former times to defend the country, but now it was now the duty of the whole nation. The old bastion system of fortifications no longer fulfilled the challenges of modern warfare. It was too expensive and required too many men to serve as support. The function could be fulfilled by fortified Landwehr arsenals situated in areas suitable for waging small wars, on the flanks of main roads, in the mountains, or on road junctions. The construction of these edifices should be simple and could be manned by 200–250 defenders. These points would be able to communicate with each other via a simple telegraph system, so in the event of one point being put under siege other units could harass the enemy.84 In his momorandum Über Festungsanlagen der gegenwärtigen Zeit of 1819, Boyen prersented the idea of making use of available buildings, including those fortified.85 According to Meinecke, this expressed of the conviction that major goals could be achieved by modest means.86

80 GStA PK, VI. HA, Boyen, No. 445, Betrachtungen, 18–19. 81 Ibid., No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, s.p. 82 Ibid., No. 373, Ideen zur Erbauung eines Landwehrzeghauses, s.l., [1817], 1–14. 83 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 147; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 242, footnote 2. 84 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 242–244. 85 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 339, Über Festungsanlagen; Discussed by Meinecke, Das ­Leben, vol. 2, 153. 86 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 153.

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Grolman’s view of the matter was similar (though with differences).87 General Staff officers paid particular attention to old castles and houses that could be turned into points of resistance.88 The director of the 2nd Department recorded the defence qualities of old castles in Lähn, Bolkenhain, Schweinhausburg, Gollub, Ortelsburg (Szczytno), Lyck, Norkitten, the monastery in Leubus, and Wrocław.89 Grolman felt that the state should fortify only its major cities and commercial hubs. If France had had a tenth of existing fortresses on its border, but located on key junctions, allied forces would not so easily have reached Paris in 1814. He believed that fortifications should not be limited to border regions. This was particularly significant in the case of countries such as Prussia, where each province should be treated as a whole. Certain points took on an essential character, especially in regions where the enemy would find it difficult to obtain supplies. This was the role played by Königsberg during the 1807 campaign, as it considerably helped Russian troops to contain Napoleon in East Prussia. The fortification of provincial centres followed one of two patterns, depending on the state’s military system. A state with simply a standing army did not have citizens with war experience. Maintaining large fortresses and fortified cities would deplete the army in the field and lessen capabilities. The situation in states with universal conscription was different. In such cases, inhabitants were prepared to defend the country. The director was in favour of a national war. This would avoid the financial situation of the French system, which was a harmful trend that had become widespread across Europe. Not only did it require many fortresses, but the wrong type of fortification. Grolman felt that expensive stone fortifications were unnecessary, that they could be replaced by simpler, well-designed and well located structures of earth and wood.90 According to Meinecke, Boyen and Grolman perceived the role of fortifications not only in a technical sense but inseparable from raising national morale. Existing edifices should be converted into fortresses. Boyen’s point of view, however, was somewhat different, he felt the current approach to fortification was too expensive and argued instead for a diversification of resistance points. Grolman agreed that a defensive war in Prussia could only be fought 87

Unfortunately, I was unable to find Grolman’s 1818 text Ueber anzulegender Landwehr – Zeughauser im. östl. Kriegstheater; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 69v. 88 For example, in 1817. Cf. Trebra described the castles at Adelnau (Odolanów) and Militsch (Milicz); Capt. Leopold von Gerlach the castles at Schivelben and Drakhein and Trzebiatovsky proposed the fortification of the town of Zeitz; ibid., 69–77. Cf. Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 243–244. 89 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Bemerkungen über Ost-Preussen, 42–72; sbb pk, pdk, xxxiii Schlesien, No. 126, Grolman: Bemerkungen über die Schloesser, s.p. 90 Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 41–45.

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with a national army, but was sceptical about too many resistance points, and opted for large fortresses. Meinecke argued that Boyen supported the ‘old war’ method dependent on terrain, and that a national war needed to be based on a large number of fortified points.91 Extant materials confirm the convergence of the two generals’ views. Universal military service was at the centre of their considerations, with its economic, social, and military ramifications. All preparations for the defence of the state were subordinated to the idea of a ‘nation war’. Principles of creating a defence system determined the tasks of the General Staff. Although planning operations was a task of the director of the 2nd Department, he saw no sense in conducting such studies in peacetime. Both generals were attached to the idea of a ‘small war’, believing that it was possible to defeat an invader without engaging in a major confrontation of forces. They preferred their manoeuvres to Napoleon’s method of resolving conflicts with major battles. This made sense in Prussia’s defensive conditions. While the above cited sources explain how Boyen and Grolman imagined defence on the provincial level, they tell us nothing about what the main forces were to do, i.e., how the ‘duumviri’ and other high commanders imagined Prussia would wage war as a state. 91 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 151–156.

Chapter 7

Prussian Strategic Concepts in the Years 1815–1819 During a Generalstabsreise between Königsberg and Insterburg (Wystruć, now Chernyakhovsk), one of the adjutants accompanying Alfred von Schlieffen ­exclaimed loudly his awe at the view of the Pregel (Pregoła, now Pregolya) valley in the light of the rising sun. Schlieffen’s response was brief and to the point: ‘An unimportant obstacle’.1 This story, usually used to illustrate Schlieffen’s narrow range of interests, also shows the main problem with Prussian war planning throughout the whole 19th century, the appropriate appreciation of geographic conditions in potential areas of operation. The geostrategic position of the Kingdom of Prussia after the Congress of Vienna was considered unfavourable.2 In his momorandum of 1817, Boyen indicated that the country’s position was determined by two main factors. The situation had worsened since Frederickian times when Prussia had one powerful neighbour, whereas now there were three. This forced Prussia to consider the possibility of fighting a war on two fronts (doppelte Krieg).3 This appraisal was shared by other officers, including Clausewitz4 who considered Prussia, as a result of the Congress of Vienna, to be compressed between two ‘colossuses’, France and Russia.5 Both were to be considered members of an anti-Prussian coalition, especially in the equivocal policies of Tsar Alexander. In consideration of the detachment of Prussian territories, Boyen felt that the political and financial significance of its eastern and western provinces meant that it was unthinkable to place the main line of defence on the Saale, as had been the case in 1806. It was difficult to depend on the political constellations in 1815 when Prussia was allied with the whole of Europe. In the event of war on two fronts, Prussia’s strategic triangle was Trier, Cosel, and Memel (Klaipėda). This triangle, on either side of the Elbe, whould constitute almost a hundred miles. Support would be provided by a strong reserve corps.6 In a memorandum of the same year, Boyen stated that Prussia’s situation should be considered in the context of each province’s relation to its neighbours. The aim was to hinder 1 J. Snyder, The Ideology of the Offensive. Military decision making the disasters of 1914 (Ithaca– London, 1984), 133–134. 2 Cf. Chapter 1. 3 ‘Boyens Darstellung’, 61, 68–69. 4 ‘Unsere Kriegsverfassung’, Clausewitz, Verstreute, 277–299. 5 Ibid., 299. 6 ‘Boyens Darstellung’, 69.

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enemy movements, making full use of natural obstacles in the terrain, ­especially rivers, as well as the engagement of inhabitants.7 He considered France as the most dangerous neighbour, with its ability to mobilise 29 million citizens, and Russia, the border with whom needed to be defended.8 Taking stock of the situation, Boyen saw four main problems with the Prussian war system. First, territories on the left bank of the Weser and east of the Thuringian Forest did not constitute a cohesive defence system and were only partially protected territories of smaller states. This meant that an attack on them would have to come from German Confederation territory or be directed against a larger number of states belonging to the Confederation. This situation was unfavourable, for instead of a group of smaller states, Prussian territories on the Rhine bordered the powerful states of France9 and the Netherlands. To hold these territories required an independent army, which would have to operate in isolation for a long period of time. The situation required allies to increase security in the western provinces. Boyen believed Prussia’s military position with regard to Austria had not changed significantly. The only modification was that Austria had lost its possessions in the Netherlands and Breisgau, which meant that Britain no longer showed interest in its territories or detachments that were stationed there. The greatest changes were in the military situation on the eastern border, where significant territorial alterations had occurred. The previous border along the Bug and Narew made a Russian attack from the south difficult, as its army would expose its back to an attack from Galicia. Moreover, a Russian offensive would need to cross the Vistula, Bzura, and Warthe. In the new circumstances, Galicia ceased to fulfil its role and the rivers no longer provided effective protection. The Prussian border had become open, and Berlin was only protected by the Oder line with fortresses in Küstrin and Glogau, and a resistance point in Wrocław provided that its defensive properties were restored. Boyen believed the situation necessitated the division of Prussian forces into two parts, supported by trained reserve units and fortresses.10 Prussian war preparations in the 1815–1819 period were perceived in parts concerning eastern and western provinces. In both instances, the issues concerned terrain and appropriate fortifications.

7 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 309, Nach welchen Grundsätzen, 3–4. 8 Ibid., 8. 9 Significantly, in the same period, the French also considered their borders to be unfavourable. Particularly worrying for them was the loss of control of Luxembourg and fortresses on the Saar line, hindering defensive actions to the east of the Vosges mountains; Cox, The Halt in the Mud, 30–33. 10 Ibid., 9–13.

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In 1815, Prussia had 27 fortresses,11 according to Boyen’s calculations 28 fortified points.12 The first assessment of the state of defence in the Rhineland province was made on the 4th of June 1814 by the chief of General Staff of the ii Army Corps Ernst von Aster.13 His memorandum concerned the North German fortification system against France, with particular focus on the role of Koblenz. According to Aster, the defence line against France ran along the Rhine from the Dutch border to Mainz. It comprised the fortresses of Wesel, Jülich, Mainz, and Luxembourg. Of these, Wesel was too interior to be treated as a border fortress; the Jülich fortress was too easy to circumvent; Luxembourg could not secure roads from France to northern Germany and could only provide support for a German offensive against France. Only Mainz could be considered a fully prepared fortress. Aster regarded the right wing of the Prussian defence system to be weaker. A French army proceeding down the Moselle from Metz to Koblenz would encounter no resistance when crossing the Rhine or the Elbe. Therefore, Koblenz needed to be fortified and a fortified point established in Malmedy to prevent the enemy from obtaining supplies from Cologne and the Eifel basin. On the 1st of March 1815, Frederick William iii ordered a number of fortification works to be carried out in Koblenz, Ehrenbreitstein, Cologne, Minden, and the Erfurt area. On the 20th, work was determined at a conference summoned by Boyen, with the participation of Gneisenau, Rauch, and Schöler.14 After Napoleon’s return, defence preparations on the western border were resumed. In May 1816,15 in accordance with his instructions,16 Grolman appointed General Staff officers to describe the theatre of war in that region.17 Accompanied by Brandenstein and Wussow,18 the section chief Col. Ernst von Pfuel was to survey the areas between the Rhine, Lippe, and Lahn,19 and Lt Reisewitz the area along the Sieg and the Rhine from Cologne to Koblenz and Lahn.20 Maj. Lützow was to conduct a reconnaissance of the mountainous 11 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 89; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 155. 12 ‘Boyens Darstellung’, 69. 13 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 127–128. 14 Ibid., 120–121. 15 lah Koblenz, Bestand 402, Sachakte 553, Grolman to Ingasleben, Berlin, 14th May 1816, 52v. 16 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 292, Instruction für die practischen Arbeiten, 46–49. 17 lah Koblenz, Bestand 402, Sachakte 553, Extrait, 53. 18 Consequently, Wussow provided descriptions of the mountain regions of Westphalia; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 77v. 19 On the basis of this, e.g., he produced a description of the road network to the west of the Rhine; ibid., 89v. 20 From the reconnaissance he produced a description of Siebengebirge; ibid., 78.

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parts the Rhineland, including the areas between Müllbach and Prüm, Hohes Venn and the streams flowing into the Ruhr.21 This conscribes a Rhine defence line centred on Cologne with Wesel and Koblenz as its wings. However, the General Staff was not the only institution working on fortifications in the Rhineland. A defence system to the west of the Elbe is found in Boyen’s instruction of 1816 to Rauch concerning a royal order for a general reconnaissance of border territories.22 The Chief of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps was assigned to inspect fortifications to the west of the Elbe, taking into account Stralsund and Spandau. Boyen felt that, due to the detached nature of Prussian territory, the best defence strategy would be preparations made beforehand. The defence systems of individual provinces, however, should be constructed in a way that could form a defence system of the whole state.23 Stralsund was a useful support point only in association with Stettin (Szczecin), Spandau, and Magdeburg. The distances between these cities was so great, however, that only a large number of troops, virtually a corps, could guarantee cooperation. It was decided that Stralsund should become a rallying point for the West Pomerania Landwehr. Due to its advantageous position, the Spandau fortress controlled the internal waterways and was a link between the Elbe and the Oder.24 Boyen considered the state of its fortifications to be satisfactory and capable of long-term defence, for which reason it served for the concentration of the province’s forces.25 Prussia was fortunate, in the minister’s opinion, to have taken over Magdeburg, Wittenberg, and Torgau.26 This allowed for control of the Elbe line and for large numbers of one’s own troops to cross. For this reason a commander operating in this region was ensured considerable freedom to manoeuvre. Magdeburg could fulfil the role of a fortified camp. Wittenberg was suitable as a bridgehead, securing the central crossing between the two wings of the Elbe line and the road from Berlin. An initial analysis of the surroundings of Torgau indicated the need to carry out a thorough field survey, taking into account that its position in relation to Lusatia, the Ore Mountains, and the river Pleisse could facilitate the movement of troops. Requiring attention in this region were particularly The section between the Elbe and Thuringian Forest and between Torgau and Erfurt required the most attention. Border changes had created detached stretches of territory that needed the construction of new roads. In assessing the defence possibilities of these 21 Ibid. 22 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch. 23 Ibid., 2–3. 24 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 145. 25 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, 3–5. 26 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 145–146.

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territories against an attack from the south, Boyen noticed that a survey taken form the Saxon border to the Harz Mountains indicated a potential for difficulties in deploying troops. An enemy advancing from the Ore Mountains towards the Harz Mountains, on the other hand, could easily be repelled from Torgau or Erfurt. Leipzig would be ideal but had not been ceded to Prussia. Boyen left designating another point to the person holding the appropriate position. In selecting stage posts, one needed to plan lines of communication. Boyen decided that a road through the Thuringian Forest would need to be one that could be kept in control. All these circumstances were necessary in a defence plan.27 Next he analysed Erfurt28 as a key natural fortress in the Thuringian Forest. It was the starting point for routes leading to Cologne and an important location between the Elbe and the Rhine, flanking attacks from the side of the Ore Mountains. It was therefore necessary to carry out works to make this city a strong point in the event of war.29 Minden30 was only significant in association with Erfurt, and its position could not be improved although Boyen saw sense in creating an independent fortress there. He also considered preparing a road between Minden and Magdeburg as a key task in the region since the exchange of territories that would eliminate the detachment of Prussian territories was a desideratum. Boyen proposed the creation of a network of northward-facing outposts on the northern side of the Harz Mountains, similarly to those situated between Erfurt and Torgau. In his description of the western provinces, Boyen noted that securing communication lines from the Weser through the Thuringian Forest to the Rhine was as important as fortresses themselves.31 Conditions seriously complicated this task because in the current political constellation Prussia could be cut off from its possessions on the Rhine. The main roads in that direction ran from Minden to Wesel, from ­Eichsfeld to Cologne, and from Erfurt to Koblenz. The control of these cities, ­supported by diplomatic measures, was essential to maintaining communication.32 The line of fortresses on the Rhine was well established, with three key points. Koblenz33 was not just a fortress on the wing but a threat to any 27 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, 5–9. 28 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 135–136. 29 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, 9–10. 30 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 134–135. 31 A reconnaissance of the Thuringian Forest was carried out by Col. Schutz in 1816; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 85. 32 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, 11–15. 33 GStA pk, vi. ha, Nachlass Ludwig von Wolzogen (hereafter Wolzogen), No. 21, Aster: Uebersicht der Befestigung von Coblenz und Ehrenbreitstein, Ehrenbreitstein, 30th July 1817, s.p.; Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 127–130.

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a­ ttempts to lay a siege on Mainz. By controlling both sides of the Moselle, it provided a good position for a mobile corps. Cologne34 was de facto capital of Prussian territories on the Rhine and would be the rallying point and centre of resistance in the event of war. The final point on the Rhine was Wesel,35 which was a third line of defence in the overall European system. It was exceptionally significant in the case of an enemy attack on the right bank of the river Lippe. Jülich36 was to perform a dual role. It was a border fortress and vanguard on the Rhine but also served as a concentration point for fortresses on the Belgian Meuse. Its role would be further increased by the construction of a road to Maastricht.37 The Federal fortress of Luxembourg38 was closely connected with the Namur fortress and Boyen wanted it always to be fully manned. It was, however, not expected to withstand a massive attack but was essential to hold surrounding territories if connections via the Moselle to Jülich were to be maintained. Boyen felt it necessary to send a corps manoeuvre between Luxembourg and Jülich. A location on the river Eifel had to be found for a supply depot. St. Vith required reconstruction.39 The Moselle and surrounding mountain ranges divided a theatre of war against France into two parts. The first stretched from the Moselle to the mountain range on its left, and the second from the left bank of the Moselle to the point where the Saar delineated the Prussian border.40 The minister saw three possible variants of war against France. The first, as in 1815, would have Belgium under attack and Prussia supporting its main army. In the second variant, Belgium would be left to rely on its own forces, without support from England. In this case, Prussian forces would concentrate on the Moselle opposite northern Lorraine. The third scenario assumed the unfortunate situation of Belgium not on Prussia’s side, and thus Prussia would be threated along a broad front from Cleves to ­Saarbrücken. Accordingly, all situations required, in case of both offensive and defensive actions, the creation of a fortified point on the upper Moselle to ­improve communication between Luxembourg and Saarlouis.41 This would allow a small corps a chance against numerically superior forces, the establishment of supply depots for Prussian forces advancing on Upper Lorraine, the 34 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 131–133; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 153–154. 35 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 133–134. 36 Ibid., 136. 37 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, 15–17. 38 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 137. 39 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, 18–19. 40 The situation was similarly assessed by the French decision makers; Cox, The Halt in the Mud, 30–33. 41 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 136–137.

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possibility of safely crossing the Moselle, and the ability to carry out flanking manoeuvres from the Moselle line or from southern Lorraine. Neither Luxembourg nor Saarlouis could fulfil this task due to their locations. It seemed that Trier was ideal, situated at a point to control roads, in possession of buildings that could serve as depots, and waterway connections with fortresses on the southern Rhine. For these reasons, it was to become the support point for all Rhineland operations. Unfortunately, fortification encountered natural limitations, although it could be substituted by ramparts. Luxembourg and Saarlouis42 already had existing fortifications. Luxembourg, however, would require a large number of troop. The key tasks were: to secure connections between the Meuse and ­Moselle with full forces from Trier; to maintain undisrupted connections between Prussian fortresses; to ensure no other roads leading away from the Meuse and Rhine, such as the one through Wesel, Cologne, and Koblenz. ­Together, these measures were to form a cohesive defence system in the Rhineland province.43 These preparations perfectly illustrate the practical nature of Boyen’s theoretical views. The views of Rauch, on whose reconnaissance they were based, are however only partly known. His letters to Boyen concern technical and personnel issues of the fortresses he visited.44 In reference to the construction of a trade route from Hanover and Brunswick to Leipzig that bypassed Magdeburg Rauch expressed a conviction that it was contrary to military interests. Nothing, however, could be done because the construction had neared completion.45 The route was to bypass the fortress, thus overturning its traditional role as a juncture on the way to Leipzig. Rauch included in his analyses old castles, such as Sparrenburg near Bielefeld, which accorded with the views of the ‘duumvirate’.46 Similar opinions were held by Rauch’s subordinate, Aster, who paid an important role in fortification projects of the west.47 Boyen’s point of view was accepted by a large proportion of decision-makers, and the ­fortification of the western border was a priority in the years 1815–1817.48 His 42

The role of Saarlouis as a flanking point in the direction of Metz, see; sbb pk, pdk, xxxi Saarlouis, No. 168, Einige Bemerkungen die Festung Saarlouis betreffend, s.l., January 1816, s.p. 43 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 336, Instruktion für Rauch, 19–24. 44 On Stralsund: ibid., No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Stralsund, 9th July 1816, 25v–26v; ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Stralsund, 9th July 1816, 37-38v; on Magdeburg: ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Magdeburg, 17th July 1816, 39–41; on Minden, Jüllich, Cologne, Lippstadt, Münster, Wesel: ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Cologne, 18th August 1816, 32–33, 34v-36; description of Koblenz and Ehrenbreitstein: ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Mainz, 5th November 1816, 27–30v. 45 Ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Magdeburg, 17th July 1816, 41–42. 46 Ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Cologne, 18th August 1816, 33. 47 GStA pk, vi. ha, Wolzogen, No. 21, Aster: Übersicht der Befestigung, s.p. 48 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 151–156.

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plans clearly illustrate a defence doctrine based on the control of lines of communication, utilizing territorial obstacles and barricades. He sought to provide his forces freedom of operation, while at the same time threatening an invader with being outflanked or attacked from the rear. A lot of attention was paid to fortresses that could serve as flanking outposts, such as Erfurt, Torgau, and Koblenz. Whether his point of view was shared by those who were expected to act in accordance is questionable. Although Boyen left instruction to local commanders, his defence plan was dependent on conditions to which commanders had to act, whether they might not have necessarily agreed. An answer would require an analysis of war preparations in the Generalkommandos, where extant documents are few. Most information comes from Hake’s Rhineland Generalkommando. In a letter to Boyen of October 1817,49 Hake expressed concern regarding the impending evacuation of allied forces from occupied France. It was to happen by the end of 1818. Hake had no doubts that this would change the strategic situation in the Rhineland, inducing thoughts of a future without guaranteed security. In a somewhat later letter, Hake stressed his situation as a provincial commander was difficult and required a great amount of work.50 With the withdrawal of occupation forces, French re-occupation of border defences was inevitable. This posed a serious threat to the Rhineland, because the Prussians were only beginning to build a defence system, through study and identification of its key features.51 Hake’s point of view was shared by Müffling, then working in the region, who argued that in the event of a French attack on the Rhineland, Prussian fortresses were quite unprepared, lacking connecting roads, bridges over the Rhine, and even depots. The population on the left bank of the Rhine had no particular affection for Prussia and was not suitable for the creation of a Landwehr.52 Hake was convinced that it was not possible to maintain forces on the Rhine capable of confronting French invading armies in the field. Hence, provincial forces were necessary to block the enemy’s first strike, ideally on the left bank, and if the French crossed the Rhine, then in another area. The general additionally noted that only by providing Rhineland cities with defence capabilities could the Prussians count on the support of inhabitants of the left bank. Assuming the enemy’s superiority, the local Kommandierender General would have to manoeuvre with great skill to maintain

49 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 30th October 1817, 27–28v. 50 Ibid., Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 26th November 1817, 29. 51 Cf. BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 72v–74. 52 GStA pk, vi. ha, Hardenberg, K 55, Karl von Müffling’s memorandum, Koblenz, November 1817, 6.

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the line between the Rhine and border fortresses. Therefore, fortifications should by no means fall into enemy hands. A general should not have to worry about the state of defences. They should be prepared in peacetime to serve as an obstacle to the enemy and ensure security for the manoeuvers of the Prussian forces.53 In view of this agenda, Hake had Aster prepare a report regarding the possibilities of ensuring, with available funds, the defensive capabilities of specific points. The report that Aster produced was in many respects alarming. It would take ten years for Koblenz to obtain adequate defences. The works underway in Cologne had in no noticeable way improved the city’s preparedness to resist a major attack.54 Nothing was happening in Saarlouis and would not until the decade passed.55 As significant as it was, the fortress was incapable of withstanding a determined enemy. This created a serious threat to the entire province, for Saarlouis was only two days’ march from Thionville and three from Metz. Wesel and Jüllich were relatively well prepared,56 and no further works needed to be considered unless additional operations required it. The analysis pointed to the necessity of concentrating available manpower and financial resources to raising Koblenz and Saarlouis to an appropriate status.57 Saarlouis was important as an observation point, key to spotting movements by French forces. The Koblenz fortress was, by its geographic location, destined to serve as the main obstacle on the Moselle line. Even if the French managed to achieve numerical superiority on the Rhine, they could encounter an obstacle in providing their forces with supplies from Metz and Thionville via the Moselle. Koblenz, therefore, would not only close the Rhine line, but also the Cologne and Mainz sections. If the French managed, through diversionary tactics, to disrupt cooperation between German states and cross the Rhine, their lines of communication could be broken between Mainz on the Middle Rhine and Cologne and Wesel on the Lower Rhine. This was possible only from Koblenz, to which essential supplies for the Prussian army could be transported. Among all points on the Rhine, only one convenient road from near Cologne ran through Kassel in the direction of Saxony. If Koblenz was well fortified, it 53 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 30th October 1817, 27. 54 Cf. sbb pk, pdk, xii Cöln, No. 145, Keibel, Bemerkungen über die Befestigung von Cöln, Cologne, 1st July 1817, s.p. 55 sbb pk, pdk, xxxi Saarlouis, No. 166, Gedrängte Darstellung der Festung Saarlouis, Mainz, 16th July 1817, s.p. 56 sbb pk, pdk, xvi Jüllich, No. 179, Lt Col. Boyen, Festung Jüllich, Jüllich, 24th June 1817, s.p.; ibid., xvi Jüllich, No. 182, Bemerkungen über die Festung Jüllich, s.l., 1817, s.p. 57 On this subject also: GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 22nd November 1817, 25–26.

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could secure this major road leading across the Rhine and deep into the interior of northern Germany. It would have much to offer the kg for control of the upper Moselle and Saar, as well as provisions from Koblenz and the whole Rhine line. If essential to withdraw, the two navigable rivers could be used to transport troops. In the same fashion, troops could be dispatched from Koblenz down those two rivers. It required the construction of a road from Trier to Saarlouis, which Hake recommended to Boyen. The Rhineland kg also considered the possibilty of access from Metz and Thionville via Mainz all the way to Kreuznach, Kaiserslautern, and Saarbrücken. This would allow for the transfer of reinforcements from the north to the Rhine, who could march safely to Koblenz and further west.58 These outpourings drew Boyen’s attention to the province’s defence system and to work out a modus operandi between the Ministry, Generalkommando, and the Engineers and Pioneers Corps. The letter shows a convergence of opinions between the kg and the minister. Given changes in the geostrategic circumstances, it was necessary to increase the province’s defence infrastructure. The construction of roads and fortifications at strategic points was to ensure that forces under Hake had the freedom to manoeuvre and conduct mobile warfare. To a limited extent, the Rhineland kg took into account the participation of the palatinate’s inhabitants, provided defences were properly constructed. It seems that with the forces and resources at his disposal, Hake was attempting to implement the general plan drafted in the Ministry of War. Further activities in the field come from the legacy of Col. Carl von Clausewitz, who in the years 1815–1818 was chief of General Staff at the Rhineland Generalkommando. The first is a letter from Clausewitz to of the 3rd of February 1818.59 In it, Clausewitz complained to his patron that three weeks’ earlier, without consulting him, Hake had sent to the king a memorandum on the Prussian military situation on the Rhine. Clausewitz disagreed with the contents of the memorandum and hoped that Gneisenau would convince the monarch to not adopt Hake’s ideas.60 He sent a summary of the memorandum,61 together with his comments.62 According to Clausewitz, the memorandum of Hake suggested that in the event of an attack of overwhelming French forces, the province’s main forces (the number and type not mentioned) would have defend the Prussian border on the Malmedy-Saarlouis. No mention was made 58 59 60 61 62

Ibid., Hake to Boyen, Koblenz, 30th October 1817, 27v–28v. ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 3. Februar 1818’, 314–321. Ibid., 314–315. ‘Bemerkungen zu dem Memoire’, 317. Ibid., 317–321.

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of political relations with the Netherlands or with surrounding German states. Instead, Hake recommended intensifying the fortification of Koblenz as the central point for all Prussian manoeuvres; strengthening the crossing of the Moselle at Trarbach63 to allow movement on the left and right wings; and constructing roads and hastening the fortification of the Deutz bridgehead, while leaving Cologne in its present state. It seems Hake saw his role in a similar manner to Boyen: in the event of war, to concentrate his forces on the wing position and carry out manoeuvres along the Moselle line. A key role was to be played by Koblenz. Clausewitz sharply criticised his superior’s ideas. He argued that such a plan was divorced from reality as it did not take into account possible geopolitical configurations of the surrounding states. A war with France would need to be waged in ways depending on stances taken by the Netherlands and neighbouring states. If the Netherlands remained neutral, there would be no point in considering defence of the border between the Meuse and Moselle. And, in the case of a Dutch alliance with the French, it would be absurd to attempt to defend that border. The more favourable option was the one based on the 1815 campaign, which assumed the main allied forces would concentrate on the Meuse, and that only a small corps would need to be deployed on the river Eifel to maintain communications between the main forces and the theatre of operations between the Rhine and the Moselle. Clausewitz did not object to the fortification of Koblenz, considering it essential in any case, even if not the central base of operations. It seems that the importance of Koblenz was appreciated by most Prussian officers. Clausewitz, however, considered it absurd to fortify Trarbach, for which he saw no future defence requirement. Clausewitz criticised the idea of building a road from Saarlouis via Birkenfeld to Mainz and Koblenz, which he felt would hinder the defence of the section between the Rhine and Moselle. He observed no interest in making territory more accessible through a network of roads. He considered it more reasonable to construct a parallel road from Aachen via Prüm to Trier, which would allow a faster march from the Netherlands to the Moselle without creating dangers. Clausewitz considered the fortification of Cologne to be essential. As long as the Netherlands were occupied or were not allied with the enemy, Cologne was safe. In the case of the Netherlands being allied with France, Cologne would acquire the most important point on the Rhine and would pose a threat to the Netherlands. Even if the French captured Mainz, their most natural crossing of the Rhine would be at Düsseldorf, which would be protected by Cologne. Although Cologne had no paved road to the German 63

This matter was to have been considered already in 1814; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 73.

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interior, it was a more important city than Koblenz, which may have had suitable roads, but they all led to the Harz Mountains and were unsuitable for military operations. Cologne, on the other hand, had road connections to Belgium and thus access to the rich lands on the river Lippe. If the enemy was to reach the Rhine line, it would cause a threat to its lower section, far greater than to the area between Cologne and Mainz. Hence, the line of fortresses on the Rhine had to be the strongest barrier, with no detractions. For Clausewitz, the fortification of Cologne was fundamental. Clausewitz further criticised the underlying assumptions of Hake’s memorandum.64 Clausewitz considered them to be anachronistic rationales (Raisonnements) that had existed in military literature for 150 years. It involved attempts to predict war situations and make preparations to counter them. Clausewitz rejected such a way of looking at the art of war and generally felt planning solutions for eventual situations to be pointless. Actions were always determined by the realities war. Clausewitz believed recent campaigns had disproved false assumptions and that it was time to discard them and return to preparing forces rather than planning their actions. Hake’s ideas were based on ‘half-science’ and ‘false art’. According to Clausewitz, the more ideas were rooted in human perception of reality and a sharp-eyed ‘glance’ at the situation, the better its chances of being effective and durable. He referred to the example of Frederick the Great, who determined where to build fortresses not on scientific assumptions, and yet they still served their purpose in contemporary times. Clausewitz ended his critique by accusing Hake of not appreciating universal military service and its potential in military operations. These thoughts are further developed in another letter of the 15th of March 1818,65 in which Clausewitz noted that despite his comments the Measurements Bureau had begun surveying for the reinforcement of the Trarbach bridgehead. Apparently, even Grolman had supported the project, though previously he had been less than enthusiastic. In that very year Aster was supposed to carry out an initial project for its fortification and in the middle Moselle as well.66 Hake assigned a mission to thoroughly examine the terrain for that building site, as well as for the road from Koblenz and Trier to Saarlouis.67 Despite Clausewitz’s protests against the project, Hake promoted his idea through a now lost memorandum entitled ‘Angaben zur Befestigung einer 64 ‘Bemerkungen zu dem Memoire’, 319–320. 65 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 15. März 1818’, ibid., 325–331. 66 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 74. 67 That same year, Col. Lützow and Col. Wolzogen described the roads in Westphalia, including around Münster; ibid., 89v.

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­osition and der Mittel-Mosel’.68 An embittered Clausewitz presented to P Gneisenau his overall appraisal of how policymakers perceived the country’s defence system. He recalled justifiable doubts during their cooperation with the Generalkommando. He referred to a lost memorandum that met with Gneisenau’s understanding, but was apparently not in agreement with the Ministry of War’s. The general did not want to engage in disputes, although he realised that Clausewitz’s objections concerned not only the western Kriegstheater, but the very essence of Prussian war preparations. Clausewitz believed that his ‘natural’ approach to matters would not find many supporters, but within a decade or two it would become universal. The assumptions of the ‘learned’ strategy on which the entire Prussian defence system was based, he blieved, was not as eternal as its proponents made it out to be. In vain were any searches for examples in antiquity, neith in the Middle Ages nor during the Thirty Years’ War. At that time no attempts were made to justify each step, instead it was determined by the courage and abilities of the commander and war was waged at the enemy’s expense. All changed during the reign of Louis xiv, when the art of engineering acquired a dominant position in the perception of strategy. Until the French Revolution, war had been waged in a conventional manner, diplomatically, without the participation of masses. Clausewitz was not opposed to the way in which wars were waged, as this resulted from circumstances which commanders would interpret. Instead, he was primarily arguing against the theoreticians, who attempted on the basis of contemporary events to construct eternal rules. Their model were the first memoranda regarding the French border. The last wars, in Clausewitz’s opinion, were so ‘natural’ that they belied erroneous ideas, ideas not yet abandoned. Many theoreticians, e.g., Georg Wilhelm von Valentini, still suggested that the Napoleonic wars were simply barbaric, supposedly illustrated by the Battle of Waterloo which had none of the model tactics of the Battle of Leuthen. Clausewitz considered this typical of the ‘General Staff guild’, although noticing signs of the times were still rebuilding an old system with old tools. Clausewitz believed it was necessary to base all war preparations on an understanding of human nature, and that required a ‘guild of craftsmen’. He admitted to never understanding academic calculations for predicting positions, roads, or marches. Only natural situations were repeated in wars. Marches along main routes, capturing of enemy capitals, defence of the main banks and shores or mountain passes, were for Clausewitz the scenarios of real wars. Other intentions were unrepeatable, created by the unique clashes of two adversaries. On these grounds, Clausewitz criticised Hake’s ideas. He cited the plan 68

Ibid., 73v.

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to build a network of roads running around Koblenz, Trier, and Saarlouis. Hakes intention was to create a situation where an enemy besieging Saarlouis would defend its position in Brums, and then the Prussian forces could use the roads to circumvent the enemy or confront them. Clausewitz questioned these calculations. The roads were solely for military purposes, without any commercial benefits for the country. Cost benefits were non-existent ten campaigns would need to be fought before it came to its predicted configuration.69 For Clausewitz, Hake’s conviction that the enemy would lay siege to Saarlouis in a way that would exploit the prepared positions was quite unrealistic. All other eventualities would destroy the assumptions of the plan. Possibilities were endless, and it was impossible to plan counter measures against all of them. Gneisenau shared the scepticism of his former subordinate. In a letter of the 27th of June 1818, he stated Hake had gotten his priorities wrong.70 Instead, the fortification of Koblenz should be completed as fast as possible71 and consideration should be given to the construction of roads from Namur to Trier and thence to Saarlouis and Saarbrücken. He also postulated for a permanent fortified camp in Trier and turning it into a rallying point for the army in the province. Gneisenau was concerned about the state of defences on the Rhine line. Responding on the 29th of July,72 Clausewitz stated that he did not think it would be possible to secure the Rhine until Cologne became a primary fortress. In the event of war, Cologne, as the largest city on the Rhineland, would become a major target for French operations. Its loss would be far more painful than losing Koblenz and it would divide the Prussian forces into two parts. He supported the idea of fortifying Trier as was obvious.73 On the other hand, Clausewitz pointed out that he had never been a supporter of situating fortified camps close to the border. It was the nature of war, in his opinion, to ensure the greatest possible freedom and space for movement. Freedom he felt led to success, and surprising the enemy by building camps, fortresses, and ramparts limited freedom of movement on both sides.74 Hence, he agreed that 69

Also on the use of roads for military purposes in a memorandum dated by Hahlweg in the 1815–1818 period: ‘Ueber die militärischen Rüksichten bei Anlegung von Strassen’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 2, 1128–1133. 70 The letter was reprinted in: ibid., 342, footnote 1. 71 Cf. sbb, pdk, iv Coblenz, No. 159, Beschreibung von der Anfertigung die Gewölle Sättel auf den Casematten von Ehrenbreitstein, s.l., 1818, s.p. 72 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Nassau, 29. Juli 1818’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 2, 342–346. 73 This subject is discussed in detail in the undated memorandum ‘Memoire über die Befestigung von Trier’, ibid., 1125–1128. 74 In the same time was prepared another memorandum on the location of Landwehr arsenals in the Rhineland and Westphalia; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 73.

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Trier be turned not into a fortified camp and rallying point but as a fortified stage point. As for the concentration of provincial forces, Clausewitz saw the advantage of grouping them, even in peacetime. Although, he felt this was probably an unachievable goal. An undated and fragmentary memorandum by Clausewitz entitled Zweite Abhandlung über Preussens Kriegstheater am Rhein. Der Rhein Preussens westliche Barriere75 summarizes these conclusions. The introduction most likely refers to his criticism of Hake’s memorandum to Gneisenau.76 The most dangerous variant of a war against France, he considered Prussia having to face its western neighbour without allies. After the return of occupation forces from France, the total number of Prussian troops in the Rhineland, including the Landwehr, was 40–50,000 armed men, assuming Westphalia forces would be deployed elsewhere. Clausewitz believed that the French would attack the Rhine line with a force of 70–100,000 soldiers and would cross it below Mainz. Not wanting to engage all possible calculations that could determine the actions on both sides, he decided to consider the Rhine line from Wesel to Mainz as a whole. Clausewitz was against concentrating main forces on the border, nor did he see sense in trying to defend the entire line against numerically superior enemy forces. It was difficult to predict what courses of action would be taken, but he hoped it would not come to a situation where the Prussians would be forced to concentrate their troops in any one place, and fight like trapped animals. That meant the risk of the enemy attacking from whichever side it found most convenient and cutting off the Prussians after their defeat. Hence, concentrating forces in Trier was risky. Troops assembled there would have no safe retreat. An army that was not sure of its rear rarely fought with conviction.77 In such conditions, it would be hard to dominate the battlefield, the timeless determinant of victory in all wars. This went largely unrecognised in many armies, where instead the methodical approach prevailed. The talent of a commander was still considered key, thouh not as much as in the past. Clausewitz noted that only a badly formed and led enemy would give the Prussians a chance. The organisation of border defences were never considered

75 76

77

‘Zweite Abhandlung über Preußens Kriegstheater am Rhein. Der Rhein Preußens westliche Barriere’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 2, 1120–1125. This is also the opinion of Hahlweg, who consistently believes that these are two parts of the same considerations, written during his service in the Rhineland; ibid., 1120, footnote 1; Hahlweg, C. von Clausewitz. Soldat-Politiker-Denker (Berlin-Frankfurt am Main, 1957), 42– 43. Bremm, on the other hand, does not see a close connection between the two documents, and also does not even cite the first of them; Bremm, Von der Chaussee, 30–31. ‘Zweite Abhandlung’, 1120–1121.

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completed, and it was unlikely that Prussian government would win public support it could afford to defend the border with only a small force. Favourable options that would allow for the concentration of troops more rapidly than the enemy or for launching a surprise counterattack were unlikely, as such occurred in only unique circumstances.78 The Rhine was considered the main frontier line of defence and it followed that the greater number of fortresses on that line, the stronger the defence. Clausewitz stressed the need to fortify every major city on its course, which obviously was futile since no line of fortresses could hold back an invasion of the country’s interior, although this was not always the enemy’s intention. A better solution was prevent the enemy from crossing the Rhine by deploying a strong army on the right bank, especially if the enemy lacked sufficient numerical superiority. The areas along the Rhine were extensive, and many circumstances could result in victory or defeat. That is why Clausewitz felt that the idea of concentrating troops behind the Rhine was not enough to feel secure. The completion of the fortress at Koblenz was to create conditions for carrying out operations on the left bank from a fortified camp. It seemed obvious that placing 40–50,000 troops in Koblenz would be enough to prevent even an enemy twice as strong from crossing the Rhine below that point to enter the German interior. It would necessitate blocking all other points on the Rhine while keeping under observation the Prussian army in Koblenz, for which even an army of 100,000 would be too small. The Upper Rhine should be able to be secured by Mainz, but if that city fell the consequences would be exceptionally unfavourable. Clausewitz felt deliberations concerning territory to be pointless and considered the relative strengths of opposing armies to be more important. Unfortunately, his comment in the extant excerpt is that Prussian forces could be weaken by the 10,000 troops they would need to deploy in fortified points.79 Clausewitz’s opinions are evidence the his perception of the art of war was quite different from that of leading figures in the Prussian army. It is implied that Hake implemented the sketched defence system plans of Boyen and Grolman. The fact that Clausewitz saw a convergence between the Rhineland Generalkommando and the 2nd Department seems to confirm it. Clausewitz was decidedly against building any system as it was not possible to determine in peacetime which points would serve as a flanking position or a base for manoeuvres. His view was not able to reconcile with attempts to build a defence system based on a study of terrains. Boyen and Grolman felt it necessary to create conditions for the commander to freely carry out an operational plans. Chance, fate, and the conflicting interests of 78 79

Ibid., 1121–1122. Ibid., 1122–1125.

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opposing sides could easily destroy even the most accurate calculations. It seems that Clausewitz’s point of view was shared by Gneisenau, though it is not known whether it was shared by any other top military commander. A clear fault in Hake’s plan was its omission of the political context and objectives of war. Potential enemies were known to all officers, but it was difficult to determine the circumstance under which they would resort to war. A problem concerned the organisation of forces within the German Confederation. A number of propositions were made in 1818 with regard to the organisation of Federal forces. On the Prussian side, serious considerations were given to developing a defence system on the Confederation’s western border. Views on the matter were presented by the Prussian representative to the Military Commission of the German Confederation, Ludwig von Wolzogen, among others. In his undated memorandum,80 he stated that the work of the Commission had so far generally concerned the German Confederation armed forces and quotas, without discussing whether they were needed near threatened borders. Certain quotas had to be concentrated in border fortresses. This required stationing troops at certain points or close to them during peacetime. This in fact did not happen, and instead the troops of each German state were stationed in their own garrisons. A priority was the fastest possible mustering of troops, which required an analysis of the terrain and the supplying of columns. Wolzogen suggested a criterion by which forces would be concentrated according to geographic locations of a given German Confederation state. On this basis, he divided each section of the Federal border into three parts. Control of the area from the south to Germersheim he entrusted to Baden in the first line, to Württemberg in the second, and Austria in the third. The section from Germersheim to Hamburg was to be defended by Bavaria in the first line, by Nassau, Hamburg, Coburg, Frankfurt in the second, with more Bavarian forces in reserve. Part of the area long the Moselle to the estuary in Luxembourg were to be ­defended in the first line by Prussia and Luxembourg, and Hesse-Kassel in the second. Prussia, Hanover, and Brunswick were to provide reserves. Saxony, both Mecklenburg states, Holstein, Hanover, and Lübeck were to provide reserve forces for the entire German Confederation.81 In the event of the threat of war, the Bundestag was to oversee the concentration of forces in border state rallying points and fortifications. The Baden area was to be controlled by the Landsturm, with a minimum of regular troops, who as necessary were to take up positions on the Rhine line from Basel to 80 GStA pk, vi ha, Boyen, No. 338, Über die Vertheidigung der westlichen Grenze von Deutschland, s.l., s.t. [1818], 1–3. 81 Ibid., 1–2.

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Philipsburg. Most of the standing army was to gather opposite Strasbourg in closely located quarters or, in the case of a greater threat, in a fortified camp. Württemberg troops were to gather in Hez and Pforzheim, and if in danger, they were to join up with the Baden forces. The next section, from the Baden border to Saarbrücken, was to be taken up by the Landsturm. First line Bavarian forces were to gather behind Guarch. Hesse-Darmstadt was to be stationed on the threatened protruding left bank of the Rhine beneath Mannheim and Worms. Reserve Bavarian troops were to be deployed between Würzburg and Bad Mergentheim. The most interesting section from the Prussian point of view was to be controlled by the Landsturm from Prussia and Luxembourg. According to Wolzogen, first-line troops were to take up positions in Trier. Troops from Kassel, Nassau, and other part of that region were to gather in Koblenz. Troops from remaining German states and Prussian reserve forces were to gather in Erfurt. Troops from Hanover were to be directed to Göttingen or Osnabrück, depending on circumstances. Likewise, the concentration points for troops from Saxony, Holstein, and Oldenburg were to be located in accordance with operational needs. Wolzogen felt that the distribution of forces in designated points would allow the supreme commander’s orders to be efficiently carried out, especially with regard to taking up a specific line of operation. It was desirable, or even essential, to designate such points in peacetime. For this reason, Wolzogen felt it was disadvantageous to limit Federal force commander’s authority in positioning Federal corps and divisions in the theatre of war. While Wolzogen believed that commanders should have freedom to act in accordance with circumstances, no obstacles should hinder his own oversight of the whole.82 Wolzogen’s proposals on potential cooperation between German Confederation forces, which complement Hake’s thoughts, ended in failure. One postulates to what extent implementation of ideas postulated by Wolzogen and Boyen would have changed the defence plans of Hake. Although muchwould have remained unaltered, German Confederation forces acting together would have considerably altered the configuration and provided a more active military approach. Of key importance in these considerations is the issue of effectively mustering troops, which meant that the enemy’s first strike would have to be confronted by the commanders of troops stationed in the border provinces. An aspect of defence policy were the potential political allegiances in Europe. Boyen and Clausewitz agreed that there were three possibilities: a coalition as had existed in 1815, a conflict only between Prussia and France, or a conflict between Prussia and a Franco-Dutch alliance. Discussions were largely 82

Ibid., 2–3.

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settled in 1818, which provided a new impulse for the development of Prussian strategic concepts in the west. Fortifying the Rhineland Palatinate was linked with a general European concept of security, and therefore also its defence system.83 The matter became a focus of attention following the Congress of Aachen. The plan initially adopted assumed that within two months following the outbreak of war, British forces would concentrate in Brussels, the Prussian forces in Cologne, and the Austrian forces near Stuttgart, and a month later, the Russian forces will arrive in Mainz. The British were to take Ostend, Ypres, and points on the Scheldt, and the Prussians were to occupy fortifications on the Meuse and Sambre. Troops from other German states were to be deployed depending on their geographic location, as in the 1815 campaign.84 These provisions led to the Prussian demands for a permanent observation corps in the Rhineland, which in dangerous situations, even before the outbreak of war, could enter Belgium. These demands were the consequence of an assessment of the potential of Dutch forces and the slow progress of Wellington’s fortifications. This led to Müffling’s mission, during which he presented to Wellington a memorandum on the actual position of the Netherlands in the event of war and what efforts they should undertake before the arrival of allied forces. The declared aim of the memorandum was to persuade the Dutch to cooperate with Prussia and thus make possible a swift provision of military assistance.85 Wellington’s resistance made Müffling’s more difficult, but he nevertheless was able to present his position with regard to a potential war against France.86 Müffling assumed that an invasion of the Netherlands would constitute a preliminary restitution of French territories on the Rhine. The invasion could be carried out in two ways. France could attack with all its forces to capture as quickly as possible certain border fortresses and create a point of support for the occupation of the whole of the Netherlands. The second possibility was for the French troops to slip past the line of fortresses and spread across the erntire country. Müffling did not rule out that the French would attempt to win over the Belgians due to their cultural affiliations and resentment of the Dutch 83

In mid-October, Rauch declared that he would carry out a tour of fortifications in Valenciennes, Maubeuge, Liège, Huy, Namur, Charleroi, Mons and Dinant; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Jülich, 12th October 1818, 50. 84 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 2, 471–472. 85 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 48, Abschrift: Bericht an das Fürsten Staats-Kanzler Durchlaucht, Brussels, 20th November 1818, 2–5. 86 During his mission, Müffling also prepared a memorandum for Metternich on the details of the negotiations regarding the status and maintenance of the fortress in Luxembourg. Nevertheless, it mainly concerns formal and financial issues which shed little light on the plan; ibid., Ueber die Festung Luxemburg, s.l., 1818, 13–14v.

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monarch. A decisive factor regarding the option the French would choose was the time needed to concentrate their forces. Their intention was to surprise the coalition forces which could be ready for an offensive no sooner than three or four month, which was enough time for the French to carry out either option of attack. In an attack on the Netherlands, the French would need to detach troops to maintain the bank of the Rhine. To this end, they would most probably deploy an army between Strasbourg and the Ardennes to provide protection against Germany. Thus, the French commander would not be threatened by offensive from that side during the first months of the war. According to the principles of warfare known to Müffling, it was impossible to operate with all forces concentrated in a single mass, which was why he felt that the French would position another army near Metz, which would be able to fight in the open field two months after the outbreak of war. Assuming such conditions, Müffling turned his consideration to what actions could be undertaken by the Netherlands, Prussia, the German Confederation, and England. He had no intention of criticising a proposed defence system, but rather how best to exploit the existing system and win enough time for allied forces to reach the Netherlands.87 The Prussian general saw three possible ways in which the French would invade. Flanders was too far from their lines of operations, and gave them no real benefit. It was more probable to expect an auxiliary attack between Tournai and the coast, whereas the main attack would be between Tournai and Charleroi against the main Dutch forces and the capital in Brussels. The next possibility was a French attack along the Meuse, between Charleroi and Marche-en-Famenne, to threaten the Dutch and German link or other forces approaching the Rhine. He assumed that the French could choose a variety of options, including deceptionsd. The Netherlands required securing fortified points between Ostend and Tournai, supplying the Tournai, Ath, Mons, and Charleroi fortifications with provisions for four months, and increasing the number of men, guns, and ammunition in anticipation of a siege. Philippeville, Mariembourg, Dinant, Namur, Huy, Liège, and Maastricht also required to be fully manned with munitions and provisions for at least four months.88 The population of Namur, unfortunately, and its surrounding areas, could only provide a half strength force. Dutch forces, after manning the fortresses, had to suffice for older fortifications in the Netherlands and minimum size garrisons distributed between Ghent, Antwerp, Brussels, and Maastricht,

87 88

Ibid., Memoire an Wellington und Metternich, 7–8. These fortresses were to achieve battle readiness in the years 1819–1820; GStA pk, vi. ha, Hardenberg, K 55, Unterredung mit der Herzog Wellington, 11v–12.

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so they could concentrate in a camp near Brussels.89 A significant error occurred in Müffling’s reasoning, which he only realised during an audience with King William. After reading his memorandum, the Dutch monarch stated that he had no intention of defending Brussels, even despite appeals from Wellington. The monarch requested that this should be treated as a state secret.90 News of an outbreak of war should reach Koblenz in 36 hours, and, if all was prepared,91 on the eighth day the first Prussian division and on the tenth day the second Prussian division whould arrive at Liège (Lüttich). After a forced march, these divisions would not be prepared to immediately face the enemy in the open field, but could man fortresses on the Meuse line, especially on the crossing point at Liège and Namur. Meanwhile, the Dutch forces should be able to man the fortress at Maastricht. If the enemy revealed the fortresses his forces were directed to, it would be possible to attack the enemy’s rear and detachments, and to avoid a main battle near Brussels. The Netherlands needed to maintain its army until coalition forces arrived. Therefore, its troops should withdraw to Antwerp, and then, as the enemy advanced, should withdraw further, leaving soldiers to man the fortresses in Antwerp, Bergen op Zoom, and Herzogenbusch, up to the fortified camp in Nijmegen. A complete retreat should occur only in the event of a French offensive, though evasive manoeuvres should be enacted before reaching the river Waal in order to delay French progress. All available forces and resources should concentrate in the Nijmegen fortified camp. According to Müffling, the defenders should have an advantage at this point over the attackers because the defenders had the potential support of entire nation. Here, the enemy’s numerical superiority would end. However, the French pursuit, however, could only be a cover for a main offensive on the Meuse line to force their enemy to march slowly in compact columns. In this scenario, the Dutch would need to attack French lines of operation from their camp in Nijmegen. The British forces would land either in Ostend or Antwerp, or possibly further up north. In whichever case, a Prussian army of 140,000 men and the German Confederation x Army Corps with 30,000 men were to march from Cologne, cross the Meuse line at Maastricht or Liège, and confront the French in open battle. The Dutch army concentrated in ­Nijmegen would either join the Prusso-German army against the French, or 89 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 48, Memoire an Wellington und Metternich, 8v–9v. 90 Ibid., Bericht an das Fürsten Staats-Kanzler, 4v. 91 An important role in this context was undoubtedly played by Luxembourg. Müffling was of the opinion that with the evacuation of occupation forces and French retaking of the fortresses of Longwy and Thionville, the role of Luxembourg as fortress was o key importance in that theatre of war; ibid., Ueber die Festung Luxemburg, 13.

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operate together with the British contingent.92 Müffling believed that the manoeuvres of the British army and the Prusso-German forces advancing from the Meuse could be coordinated.93 To this end, the British should proceed form Ostend, along the border from Antwerp to Brussels so as to confront the French together with the Prussians. Up to this point only general guidelines could be given due to factors such as the sizes of the British and Dutch armies or the time it would take the Prussians to reach the warzone. It was possible the French army in the Netherlands would be too strong for the Prussians to attack or that they would lose. In this case, troops should be sent from Mainz via Koblenz to Namur. The general noted that the Prussian government was currently building a road from Koblenz to Prüm. He believed secondary roads should be built along the shortest route to Namur and from Prussia, via Reuland or St. Vith, to the Dutch border, enabling King William to link it with the road from Namur. To this end, consultations between the governments of both countries should occur to present concrete proposals.94 Analysing forces deployed on the Upper Rhine, Müffling noted five Austrian, one Bavarian, one German, two Prussian army corps, and that two Russian army corps could join on the way to Mainz. The campaign should begin with the largest possible mobilisation of troops. Müffling recommended a peacetime build up of an Austrian corps that would be able to arrive at the Rhine within a month following the outbreak of war, with remaining Austrian units to follow. It would then be possible to link Austrian corps with Bavarian and German corps to create an army of around 90,000 soldiers, which could occupy Alsace, which was currently occupied by the German Confederation. After the arrival of the Russians, seven remaining corps should set off either towards the French capital or to the Netherlands. There, they should harass the rear of the French army, and together with the Anglo-Dutch allies eventually defeat it in a main battle.95 Müffling’s proposal therefore includes the draft of a comprehensive operation plan leading to a main battle. His reasoning demanded a key role for fortresses and rivers, which would determine the actions of the enemy. Though Müffling’s considerations might not have had Clausewitz’s approval, they were less detailed than the defence system in the western provinces. Nonetheless, the plan was rigid and presumed only three options the enemy would take and assumed only one possible configuration of political alliances. The ­memorandum 92 93 94 95

For this purpose, roads had already been built between Maastricht, Antwerp and Ostend; GStA pk, vi. ha, Hardenberg, K 55, Unterredung mit der Herzog Wellington, 12. However, in light of later complaints about Wellington’s attitude, this seemed rather problematic; GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 48, Bericht an das Fürsten Staats-Kanzler, 3v. Ibid., Memoire an Wellington und Metternich, 9v–11. Ibid., 11–12.

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lays out a chief Prussian general’s imagined campaign against France. It presents the Prussian position on the protocol signed at Aachen. Müffling felt the memorandum probably would not be acceptable to the Dutch and British.96 In any case, the failure of negotiations did not allow consideration of the plan to be binding. It does, nonetheless, shed light on the Prussian interpretation of international arrangements. Extant sources confront Müffling’s memorandum with a mysterious text from Boyen’s legacy,97 entitled Über ein Vertheidigungs system im Nördlichen Deutschland. The document, unsigned and undated, does have numerous annotations in the margin98 signed by the king’s Adjutant General Knesebeck. It was probably written around 1818 and concerns the situation shortly before or after the Congress of Aachen. Bremm believes the anonymous officer’s document was likely prepared before 1818,99 though he makes no reference to the annotations signed by Knesebeck. The text and mention of the Dahlem institute makes it possible that it was written by none other than Boyen, but there is not enough evidence to confirm this.100 The author of the memorandum assumed101 possible variants of a French operation against the coalition: either an attack from between the Scheldt and the Meuse or from Alsace and along the Saar river to Mainz, or a combination of both. The advantage in the first phase of the conflict is obvious. Their first opponents would be forces in the border provinces and army contingents from smaller German states. Therefore, only prepared fortifications and the local population would allow for resistance. In the case of an attack between the Scheldt and the Meuse,102 however, local forces would have no chance to withstand it. The only option would be to adopt delaying tactics, preferably by taking flanking positions. Fortified points at Ostend and Nieuwpoort would be of key importance as potential landing sites for British troops. After their arrival, both fortresses would create 96 Ibid., Bericht an das Fürsten Staats-Kanzler, 2–3v. 97 Ibid., No. 331, Über ein Vertheidigungs system, 30–37v. 98 Ibid., 31v, 33v, 34v, 36, 36v. 99 Bremm, Von der Chaussee, 33. An inventory, probably from the 1920s, suggests that the text was written at around 1816; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 A, No. 884, Kriegs-Archiv, Sektion ii, 61. 100 It might also be asked whether the text is the one mentioned by Meinecke in his biography of Boyen ‘Müfflings Denkschrift über die Verteidugung des nördlichen Deutschlands, August 1814’. However, there is insufficient knowledge about the contents of this document. Meinecke only mentioned it included concepts, such as raising Cologne to the status of a fully-fledged fortress, which does not really correspond to the memorandum text; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 152, footnote 2. 101 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Über ein Vertheidigungs system, 30. 102 Ibid., 30–31v.

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a Flankenstellung against the French advancing from between the Scheldt and the Meuse. Offensive use of these positions, however, required a crossing over the Scheldt and the state of fortifications at Tournai. The French advance from between the Meuse and Moselle would entail a difficult, 20-mile march over numerous hills and rivers, barren and wooded territories from Lorraine and Aachen. Control of the Namur fortress would be key, which could paralyse enemy movement between the Scheldt and the Meuse. Selecting the first operation line as between the Saar and Mainz seemed unlikely as it had Mannheim and Trier (which definitely needed to be fortified) positioned at its flank, in association with Luxembourg. Every manoeuvre from Trier towards Zweibrücken103 and Kaiserslautern would cut the French off from Mainz. To this end, however, roads needed to be constructed between those points.104 The fortresses at Ostend, Nieuwpoort, Menen, and Tournai in Flanders were to be manned by the Landwehr and the province’s inhabitants, only slightly reinforced by regular troops in Tournai. The entire Dutch regular army and the Landwehr of Brabant, Nijmegen, and Namur were to concentrate in a camp on the Meuse and await the enemy attack. Troops form the central German states were to concentrate behind the Speyerbach, with a corps at Kaiserslautern. In the event of an attack, Mainz was to receive an essential quota of soldiers to man the fortifications, and the rest of the forces were to go to the camp in Mannheim. That would be the first line of defence against a possible French attack. The Dutch had to hold out at that point, as well as at Antwerp, Venlo, and Maastricht, until the British arrived. Prussian forces on the Rhine were to concentrate at Aachen, thus protecting the Moselle, Jülich, Cologne, and Koblenz.105 Contingents from Hesse-Kassel and Nassau should gather in Koblenz, the simplest way to support the defenders of Mainz and Mannheim. The ­remaining German states were to gather their forces at Minden in the north, Erfurt in the centre, and Ulm in the south, to form the third line of defence. 103 It should be added that in the years 1819–1820 a local commission analysed the possibility of locating a fortified camp in Homburg, making possible to launch an offensive against France and filling a gap in the defensive line between Luxembourg and Landau. It was assumed that the selected location should be, on the one hand, close to border, intersect a road that was open all year, facilitating travel in important directions and the delivery of supplies, and on the other hand, close a road junction, forcing the enemy to by-pass it at a distance beyond the range of the fortress guns and lie in a terrain that suitable for field fortifications. The planned camp was also to hold 10–15,000 soldiers. Homburg did not entirely fulfil all those criteria; sbb pk, pdk, xxx Rheinfestungen, No. 162, Festungen am Rhein, s.l., [1819–1820], 37–46. 104 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Über ein Vertheidigungs system, 31v–32. 105 Ibid., 32v.

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All commands and decrees were to be issued in accordance with operational variants by the French. If their attack ensued from between the Scheldt and the Meuse, the Dutch army would withdraw to Namur, stopping the enemy from reaching forces concentrating at Aachen. Once the forces were united, they would be able to hold the French until the main army from Minden and Erfurt crossed the Rhine. This would allow for a transition to the offensive, especially where the British in Flanders could carry out a simultaneous attack on the French army’s flank and rear. In the event of an attack on Mainz, forces gathered on the Speyerbach were to move towards the city and Mannheim. Forces gathered in Aachen should be moved to Trier to threaten fortresses in Thionville and Saarlouis. Troops in Koblenz should set out to Simmern in order to outmanoeuvre the French, putting them between two corps and forcing them to withdraw without engaging in a main battle. This would give essential time for the main German state forces to concentrate on the Rhine and begin their own offensive. Should the French chose to launch a combined attack, the most important task would be to hold on to the fortresses of Namur and Tournai so as to maintain communication with Aachen, a decisive element throughout the campaign. Given certain circumstances, engaging the numerically superior enemy in battle could be considered.106 The author of the memorandum precluded the possibility of the French attacking only southern Germany before occupying the left bank of the Rhine. Therefore, as long as the coalition forces maintained control over the Scheldt, Meuse, and Moselle, southern Germany would be safe.107 After the first envisaged battle, the coalition could proceed to invade France or launch methodical attacks on particular points along its border. In either case, resources had to be prepared for sieges and special siege columns and corps had to be formed. Only the largest fortresses (especially Valenciennes, Cambrai, Thionville, and Metz) should be put under siege, while smaller ones should merely ber observed. If breaking through the first line of fortresses should fail, holding on to Antwerp, Maastricht, Jülich, Koblenz, and Mainz was essential. Of particular importance were Maastricht and Jülich as they could enable a French attack on the Rhine line. Mainz, Koblenz, and Cologne could provide shelter to a defeated army and enable further defence of the Rhine line, though during winter months there were many places where the river could be crossed. The third line of defence was formed by Hanau, Marburg, the Ruhr, and Münster, which required a variety of preparations. A major obstacle to movement in that part of Germany was the network of dilapidated mountain roads. 106 Ibid., 32–34. 107 Ibid., 34v–35.

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The situation, of course, would be complicated if the South German states betrayed the German Confederation. This would not have a great influence on the situation in the Netherlands and on the left bank of the Rhine. On the right bank, it would necessitate the creation of operational bases in Koblenz, Marburg, and Erfurt. It would also require holding on to Mainz, Hanau, and the Koblenz area until a concentration of forces in Thuringia. Operations in Franconia were of importance, especially Würzburg, which would give control of the upper and middle Main, and an attempt to eliminate Baden from further action. Prussia had to keep in mind the defence of the whole of Germany, and its western defence system was delineated by the Thuringian Forest, as well as the rivers Werre and Weser.108 Prussia’s territorial possessions in this respect required consolidation. Two points were of particular importance, Minden and Erfurt, and needed to become first rank fortresses. The problem was the lack of a third point, such as Hann. Münden in the interest of the smaller German states needed to be acquired so that the defence system would benefit from a third key road for armies to the west.109 Commenting on these considerations, Knesebeck was of the opinion that a French offensive in the Netherlands would start with an attack from the Sambre and Meuse on Namur, and from there proceed via Brussels or Leuven to Antwerp. That was the weakest point in the Dutch defence system, as its line of operation was very short. In this situation, it was necessary to start from Trier and attack the enemy from the rear and flanks.110 In the defence variant, main forces in the centre should, in accordance with theory, weaken enemy forces in Flanders. Prussian units should carry out manoeuvres and seek out the weakest point. Knesebeck recommended conducting manoeuvre warfare (Bewegungskrieg).111 He saw possibilities of attacking the French from the Netherlands and Lorraine. The enemy’s weak areas were Franche-Comté and Burgundy.112 According to the memorandum and its discussion, the enemy’s movements were perceived as determined by geographical factors. There was no room for surprise manoeuvres. Likewise, Müffling based his plan on a defined configuration of fortresses, roads, and rivers, though he proposed a sless rigid view of conducting operations. In the texts, enemy forces were not seen as the main target. Although main battles were anticipated, none were considered to decisive in the campaign. Regardless of a badly defeated enemy, the victor would 108 A description of the middle Weser was carried out in 1817 by Lt Col. Lützow; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 62v. 109 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Über ein Vertheidigungs system, 35–37v. 110 Ibid., 31. 111 Ibid., 33. 112 Ibid., 34.

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always have to continue the campaign to capture successive fortresses and key points. This is interesting insofar as campaign plans were based on the actions of the coalition armies in 1815, which resolved conflict on the battlefield and in which fortresses played no role. It was this kind of mentality that aroused Clausewitz’s opposition. Although the plans did take into account the political context, they ignored the objectives of both sides and the degree to which they were determined to implement them.113 Such attempts to predict actions would have been for Clausewitz a mere form of casuistry divorced from the realities of conflict. While Boyen and many of the generals assumed the possibility of defining the way in which the French would begin their campaign, Clausewitz held that the essence of an offensive was the element of surprise, and that a brilliant commander should be able to overcome any defence system. Therefore, Boyen and Grolman’s proposed defence planning was for Clausewitz an illusion, and a dangerous one insofar as it was apparently gaining popularity the army ranks. Confirmation of these theses naturally requires a comparative analysis of defence concepts for the eastern provinces of Prussia. In the years 1815–1819, defensive preparations on the right bank of the Elbe were treated with less priority than defence of the Rhineland,114 a partial result of financial constraints.115 This is surprising since the threat to Prussia’s eastern border was greater than that of the Rhineland Palatinate. This did not mean that defence was completely neglected. Boyen and Grolman were interested in East Prussia and the Grand Duchy of Posen. Fears were aroused by the existence of the Kingdom of Poland, which Prussian officers treated as a sovereign state with overtly anti-Prussian interests. These fears are illustrated in a letter to Boyen in

113 Significantly, also only defensive options were considered in France. Cox’s analysis of the 1818 Defence Committee meetings clearly reveals that despite the fears of Prussia and other German Confederation states, the French only discussed the possibilities of repelling an invasion of coalition forces. Of particular concern were, of course, the northeast border and the fortification of Paris. Similarly to the Prussians, most of the French officers perceived defence in terms of fortifications and natural obstacles. Some recommended avoiding battles and conducting a war of attrition. Although it is difficult to say to what extent the Prussians could have been informed of what the French had decided, one cannot but agree with Clausewitz the exerted defence preparations against a French invasion was quite irrelevant political and military realities; Cox, The Halt in the Mud, 55–71. 114 Bonin stated that the problem was not officially looked into on account of a conviction that the only potential enemy was France. In light of extant sources and Bonin’s own work, this opinion seems exaggerated; Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 138. 115 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 155.

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May of 1815 by Tresckow,116 who served in the Prussian Generalkommando.117 Tresckow believed that in the current political climate, the outbreak of war was a possibility, and saw the major threat coming from the Kingdom of Poland. His appraisal was that only a number of regular troops could be assigned to eastern border defence.118 Hence, the need to organise and train Landsturm forces. Territories bordering Poland from Memel to Willenberg (Wielbark) were intersected by numerous forests, lakes, and marshes, which made them ideal for Landsturm-type forces. Territory to the Vistula and further down the border was easier for a march, but still suitable for conducting a small war against enemy incursions. According to Tresckow, border defence should follow a hard and fast rule: immediately after crossing, the enemy’s flanks and rear should be constantly harassed. The Landsturm should be prepared for ­action at Angerburg (Węgorzewo), Rhein (Ryn), Allenstein, and Neidenburg ­(Nidzica). The fortresses of Graudenz (Grudziądz) and Thorn were to protect Western Prussia,119 especially the important junctions at Marienburg (Malbork) and Dirschau (Tczew).120 Tresckow was convinced that a Polish attack would probably begin with an insurrection,121 presumably with Russian provocation, which would enable an entry to Polish territory with regular troops, but no further than ten miles to maintain supplies. The Landsturm should not cross the border, but remain to protect Prussia and access resources. In Lithuania, concentration of forces were designated at Memel, Tilsit, Neidenburg, and Johannesberg (Krzyż). The task of the East Prussian Landsturm in the Allenstein area was to protect the road from Neidenburg. Forces from around Königsberg were to be deployed along the border and at Marggrabowa (Olecko). West Prussia was almost entirely protected by the Vistula and Thorn to the Silesian border, and requiring only the designation of initial rallying points.122

116 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Tresckow: Ansichten, 3–9. 117 Cf. Chapter 2. 118 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Tresckow: Ansichten, 4. 119 It should be noted that the state of defences at Thorn, than being taken over by the Prussians, left a lot to be desired, bearing in mind its key role as a point connecting the lines of defence running from Gdańsk (Danzig) via the Grand Duchy of Posen down to Silesia; sbb pk, pdk, xl Thorn, No. 43, Abschrift: Oberst und Brigadier v. Engelbrecht, Bericht die Festung Thorn betreffend, Thorn, 16th October 1815, s.p.; ibid., No. 44, Abschrift: OberstLeutnant Samuel F. Seydel, Bericht von der Übernahme und dem Zustand der Fortification zu Thorn, Thorn, 1st October 1815, s.p. 120 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Tresckow: Ansichten, 4–5v. 121 Cf. Chapter 2. 122 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Tresckow: Ansichten, 6–7.

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Tresckow’s views clearly responded to Boyen’s fears.123 It was fear of the Poles that instigated Gen. Heinrich von Thümen’s actions, who took control of the Duchy of Warsaw territories, in accordance with a royal order of the 14th of May 1815, as well as occupying areas not included in the treaty, most notably Słupca and Peisern,124 a measure driven by strategic considerations. The Polish side was equally aware of the strategic significance of the two places. On the 28th of February 1816, Grolman gave Boyen a copy125 of a memorandum prepared by a Polish Quartermaster officer, Lt Col. Ignacy Prądzyński, entitled Mémoire sur la reconnaissance de la frontière entre le Royaume de Pologne et le Grand Duché de Posen depuis la Vistule jusqu’a la Warta.126 It was the result of reconnaissance work assigned to Polish officers on the Prusso-Polish border in November 1815,127 describing the terrain from the Vistula to the Warthe. His memorandum contained information concerning use of the terrain for military purposes, but also suggestions concerning a possible Polish-Russian war against Prussia.128 Prądzyński contemplated an offensive towards the Oder, or a defensive variant holding a line between Słupca and Kalisch, but essential in taking Thorn.129 Even a small Prussian corps would render an offensive on the Oder impossible, or in the case of defeat, necessitate retreating from the left bank of the Vistula. The occupation of Thorn was the first goal of the Polish offensive, the conditions of which were discussed in detail by Prądzyński. The area between Lake Gopło and Lake Powidz was suitable due to the terrain for small war, particularly with the deployment of partisan forces given the mood

123 Rothe suggests that the text resulted from Tresckow’s own observations or from Boyen’s initiative; Hermann von Boyen, 75–76. 124 Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 64–65. 125 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, v. Pradzinsky, Oberstleutnant im Generalstab der poln. Armee: Mémoire sur la reconnaissance de la frontière entre le Royaume de Pologne et le Grand Duché de Posen depuis la Vistule jusqu’a la Warthe (sent by Grolman to Boyen, Berlin, 28th February 1816), 10–20. 126 A draft of Prądzyński’s memorandum is found in the Prądzyński papers, Manuscripts Department, Catholic University of Lublin Library [Biblioteka Uniwersytecka Katolickiego Uniwersytetu Lubelskiego, bu kul], ms No. 65, Mémoire sur la reconnaissance de la frontière entre le Royaume de Pologne et le Grand Duché de Posen depuis la Vistule jusqu’a la Warthe, s.l., s.t. 231–246; the fullest description of the text is in Prądzyński’s biography by Bloch. The memorandum is unsigned and undated, therefore it is difficult to determine who, when and in what form received this copy; Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 68–74. 127 Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 65. 128 It should be noted that the Prussian copy lacks the detailed information on the Polish operation plan in the region of Kalisch towards the Oder found in the Lublin manuscript; ibid., 73–74. 129 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Pradzinsky: Mémoire sur la reconnaissance, 10.

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of the local population.130 The town of Słupca was a key position on the section between Lake Powidz and the Warthe. The terrain from that village to the river was intersected with numerous streams and channels, making it difficult for an army to march in a single mass. For this reason the Słuszyn-Słupca line was paramount for any invasion of Prussia.131 The section from the Warthe to the mouth of the Prosna was similar. The most important position was in the Prussian-occupied town of Peisern. The strategic significance of its bridge over the Warthe was emphasised by the fact that the next crossing was as far away as the village of Sławsk on the Prussian side. Possession was therefore essential in preventing an attack on the Oder line, as control of the Warthe was essential to war plans.132 Prądzyński postulated strengthening positions in Włocławek, Koło, and Konin, which were to serve as bases for offensives in the direction of Prussia and Germany.133 Boyen and Grolman largely agreed with the Polish officer’s appraisals. Boyen referred to Prądzyński’s memorandum134 in a letter concerning disputes over the demarcation of the border between the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Posen,135 which he sent to Chancellor Hardenberg in late September 1816.136 The Prussian minister of war was concerned about Russian actions in the context of Poland, believing that small border areas should not be the cause of friction between allies. Prussian possession of newly occupied settlements, especially Szytno,137 Lake Powidz, Słupca, Peisern, and the Prosna line, were a strategic necessity that in light of agreements Alexander i should not object to, these places being key to the defence of the entire eastern border. Peisern and Słupca in Polish hands would make possible a Polish offensive against Posen and the Oder.138 Loss of Szytno would weaken the position of Thorn and violate the rule that there should be no obstacles in foreign hands within one day’s march of the fortified trading city. Prądzyński’s memorandum constitutes a valuable supplement to Boyen’s instructions concerning Grolman’s mission to the provinces on the right bank 130 131 132 133 134

Ibid., 17. Ibid., 18v. Ibid., 18. Ibid., 19–20v. Rothe is of the opinion that Boyen cited directly from Prądzyński’s memorandum; Hermann von Boyen, 78–80. 135 Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 65. 136 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 333, Über die Gränzten im Herzogtum Posen, 1816; ‘Über die Gränzten im Herzogtum Posen’, Hermann von Boyen, 325–330. 137 Unidentified place. 138 ‘Über die Gränzten’, 326–328.

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of the Elbe, part of a reconnaissance ordered by the Prussian monarch.139 Inspected territories included all provinces to the east of the Elbe, with the exception of Stralsund and Spandau. They were divided into the Oder basin and East and West Prussia.140 Defence of the west Oder basin was largely dependent on internal factors and primary attention had to be focused on the connection of this area with the Oder line defence system. The area was protected from the east by the Sudetes, as well as the Warthe and Netze rivers. Only fortifications at Luckau could constitute a potential protection against invasion through Upper Lusatia. Prussia’s strategic advantage was the fact that it controlled the entire course of the Oder, whose defence system was based on four main fortresses: Stettin, Küstrin, Glogau, and Cosel. Stettin was a classical maritime fortress that could serve in coastal defence from Memel to Stralsund. Küstrin141 was of importance because its loss would threaten links between the Northern March and Silesia, and consequently pose a direct threat to Berlin. It could become a target for an enemy advancing from the east or from the west. Its fortifications required strengthening against a direct attack from the Russian side. Glogau was significant to defence systems on both sides of the Oder because of the threat it posed to Upper Lusatia. Cosel was an important base for operations both west and east. Boyen was particularly concerned about Wrocław, a city of considerable political and military significance. It was the centre of Silesia and its loss would be tantamount to the loss of the entire province. As the main communication and supply hub for mountain fortresses on the Austrian border, it was an essential possession. It was an ideal starting point from the enemy’s point of view for an attack on Glogau or Upper Silesia. Unfortunately, following Napoleon’s order, it as an open trading city deprived of its fortifications. At least building a citadel was considered but was met with resistance from the city’s inhabitants. Given the situation, Polish operations of the sort planned by Prądzyński could pose a definite threat to Prussian territorial possessions.142 Fortresses to the east of the Oder were exposed to attacks from neighbouring territories. Provinces inhabited by the Poles required close observation. These were Polish provinces in Russia, the Kingdom of Poland, the Free City of Cracow, Galicia, West Prussia, and the Grand Duchy of Posen. Only Galicia and West Prussia could be regarded as relatively safe. Polish 139 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 334, Instruktion für Grolman. 140 Ibid., 1. 141 By that time there were already many works assessing the state of the fortress in the 2nd Department; sbb pk, pdk, viii Cüstrin, No. 68, Oberst-Leutnant v. Lützow, Bemerkungen über Cüstrin, summer 1816, s.p. 142 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 334, Instruktion für Grolman, 1–5.

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­ rovinces within the Kingdom of Prussia required particular attention. Acp cording to Boyen, the Grand Duchy of Posen was an important link between Silesia and Prussia and, therefore, an area of key strategic significance.143 The two rivers that ran through it, the Warthe and Netze, constituted a solid operational base for both attack and defence. This made Greater Poland an important transport hub between Thorn, Graudenz,144 Glogau, and Wrocław. Therefore, ensuring security in this province was a priority.145 In order to maintain East Prussia, control of transport routes was essential: from Berlin, via Silesia, to Cracow; from Berlin to Königsberg, and from Königsberg, via Pillau (Piława, now Bałtijsk), to Gdańsk. This engaged existing fortresses, the most important of which were Königsberg and Thorn.146 Königsberg performed a similar role in East Prussia to that of Wrocław in Silesia as the province’s centre of defence. Grolman’s chief concern was ensuring that it had strong defences. Thorn secured control over the Vistula line, it was key for the Prussians and the Poles alike. Its possession it was a prerequisite for defending the Vistula line and thwarting any Polish attempts to advance on Wrocław or the Oder.147 Similar observations can be found in reports form Grolman’s reconnaissance of 1816–1817.148 In addition to a detailed description of terrain conditions and the state of fortifications, especially with regard to Wrocław, Glogau,149 Posen,150 Thorn,151 Lyck,152 and Lötzen,153 they include concrete operational 143 Most probably in the summer of 1816, Capt. Gerlach took a journey that took him through Berlin along the Oder and Warthe line, encompassing territories around Kosten (Kościan), Obornik (Oborniki), Kruschwitz (Kruszwica) and Küstrin; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 61v. 144 Cf. descriptions of Graudenz fortifications carried out in the spring and summer of 1816; sbb pk, pdk, xiii Graudenz, No. 36, Oberst und Brigadier v. Engelbrecht, Bericht über Zustand und die Vertheidigungsfähigkeit der Festung Graudenz, Graudenz, 4th March 1816, 1–8; ibid., No. 37, Oberst-Leutnant v. Lützow, Bemerkungen über Graudenz, und Anlegung eines festen Lagers daselbst, s.l., summer 1816, 1–14. 145 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 334, Instruktion für Grolman, 6–8. 146 In that time, Engelbrecht carried out successive, detailed assessment of the state of the fortress; sbb pk, pdk, xl Thorn, No. 45, Oberst und Brigadier v. Engelbrecht, Bericht den Zustand der Festung Thorn, und die Vertheidigungs-fähigkeit demselben betreffend, Graudenz, 20th April 1816, s.p. 147 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 334, Instruktion für Grolman, 8-12v. 148 Primarily: GStA pk iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Reise Bericht, 26–41; ibid., Bemerkungen über Ost-Preussen, 42–72. 149 sbb pk, pdk, xxxiii Schlesien, No. 126, Grolman: Bemerkungen über die Schloesser, s.p. 150 Primarily: GStA pk iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Reise Bericht, 27-30v. Also see GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Grolman to Boyen, 5–6v. 151 GStA pk iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Reise Bericht, 35v–41. 152 Ibid., Bemerkungen über Ost-Preussen, 51v–53. 153 Ibid., 54v–60.

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proposals for their use in the case of war. He paid the most attention to the defence of the Grand Duchy of Posen. Possession of the disputed town of Słupca was crucial. His estimate was that one army corps concentrated in Słupca would be sufficient to defend the Greater Poland region. As the enemy advanced the corps should not retreat directly to Posen, but rather make use of the terrain between Lake Powidz and Lake Nakło, offering positions difficult to attack or circumnavigate, and then withdraw with diversionary manoeuvres until reinforcements from other provinces arrived. The corps was to take positions that would hinder an advance on Posen and threaten to cut the enemy off from Warsaw. This should prevent the enemy from carrying out an offensive with all ogf its forces, having to devote a portion against the Prussian corps. Grolman also foresaw the possibility of the corps concentrating in Posen. In this situation, it would take little time to cross the Warthe, proceed to Neumark, cross bridges over the Oder, and withdraw to Silesia, from where it could threaten the enemy from a lateral position (Seitebewegungen), thus winning time. This seemed more justified to Grolman than a main battle against the enemy advancing towards the Warthe. Long marches and threats to its lines of communication would incline the enemy to retreat towards the Vistula.154 Grolman proposed similar defence solutions in East Prussia. The border from the Drewenz, through Gollub to Lyck was an inhospitable, forested region, ­allowing for defence the enemy would find hard to overcome. It should not, however, lead to the dangerous idea of trying to stretch the enemy forces by deploying a defensive cordon. Grolman argued that, in such a case, the enemy with a relatively small troop could dislodge the defenders from their positions by circumventing them with its main forces or by breaking through the weakest point in the cordon. Defence positions would need to be abandoned due to the difficult terrain, which might trap defenders surrounded by overwhelming enemy forces and natural obstacles. This area was, however, suitable for irregular warfare, luring the enemy ever deeper into the interior, aware of the unseen presence of the defenders and discouraging patrols. Several weeks of such conditions could significantly weaken an invading army, whereas the Prussian side would need only wily officers and a knowledge of the area.155 Grolman appreciated not only the defensive positions between Peisern156 and Słupca, but also settlements on the border that could support small units of troops against a 154 Ibid., Reise Bericht, 32v–35v. It is worth noting that most probably in the summer of 1816. Lt Col. Lützow inspected Greater Poland, and then presented his conclusions; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 59. 155 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Bemerkungen über Ost-Preussen, 49v–51. 156 Prussian side was also consistently interested in Peisern in later years; GStA pk, vi ha, Boyen, No. 2, Thile I to Boyen, Warsaw, 26th September 1819, 10v.

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numerically superior enemy. The vastness, poor infrastructure, and meagre resources of the province ruled out a concentration of forces conducting a regular war of manoeuvres as in the Rhineland. These considerations were driven by necessity, for the defence system in East Prussia needed to be built from scratch. Grolman presented to the king on the 22nd of May 1817 the conclusions of his reconnaissance in a memorandum entitled Über die Verteidigung der Länder vom rechten Ufer der Elbe bis zur Memel,157 which constitutes the most wellknown manifestation of Prussian defence planning in the years 1815–1819.158 The text is divided into two parts, the second of which analysed the inspected sections. Territories between the Elbe and the Queis (Kwisa) were seen as threatened by a possible attack from Bohemia or Saxony via Zittau to Berlin. The expanses between the fortified towns of Torgau and Schweidnitz, as well as between Wittenberg and Glogau, provided the enemy with room to manoeuvre, and the fortresses could threaten enemy lines of communication only to a limited extent. Grolman saw stretches of terrain that could serve the defensive actions of a weaker army. The first was on the Black Elster line from Hoyerswerda to the Wittenberg area, where it flows into the Elbe. Grolman argued for making use of the region’s many small towns and the construction of small fortifications. He considered building fortified camps in two key points: Senftenberg as the Stützpunkt and Luckau as its chief storehouse.159 In specific configurations, they could threaten enemy connections with Dresden. The second potential line of defence was along the rivers Nuthe and Notte,160 with its main section from Königs Wusterhausen via Zossen to Potsdam. The main task was to stop the enemy from crossing the rivers. To make use of these two lines of defence, they needed preparation. Troops from the provinces of Torgau, Görlitz, and Lübben had to be deployed to threaten the enemy’s flank and rear, thus dispersing its forces and allowing time for the main Prussian forces to prepare a counterattack. Görlitz should be raised to the rank of a fortress, creating a link with fortified towns in Silesia or those on the Elbe. Among these considerations are the only documented to conceptualise the Prussian 157 Ibid., No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 2–25. 158 The memorandum has been cited in various forms in the following texts; Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 138–147; Conrady, Leben und Wirken, part 3, 45–48; Hartmann, ‘Bemerkungen’, 22–26. 159 A plan to fortify the towns of Senftenberg and Hoyerswerda was prepared by Capt. Röder in 1816 ; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 71. 160 In 1817, Capt. Staff carried out a reconnaissance between Berlin and Wrocław, and Frankfurt on the Oder and Kostschin (Kostrzyn), and Capt. Willemer territory from Köpenick via Mittenwalde to Potsdam; ibid., 61v.

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military response to an Austrian attack. Grolman’s plans were consistent with Boyen’s opinions, although he did not share the concerns of his superior.161 Grolman was more concerned about the state of defences in Silesia, which in the event of an attack from the east could be cut off from the rest of the country. The province’s defence system had been established by Frederic the Great, but was rendered useless with the demolition of fortifications in Wrocław, which effectively left the province exposed to an attack form its eastern neighbour. Grolman estimated that within a four days’ march, a force of 40,000 Poles162 could capture Wrocław, and in another 14 days occupy the whole of the province. A full reconstruction of the Wrocław fortress was opposed by the inhabitants, and only an improvised resistance of the city would be possible until a relief force came. The task of a commander should be to find positions that could protect Wrocław from the invader. Fortresses at Neisse, Glatz, Silberberg (Srebrna Góra), and Cosel required substantial reinforcements. The most important fortress in Silesia was Glogau, protecting Berlin from the south. For this reason, it should be strengthened and supplied with a bridgehead to control the crossing of the Oder. Its maintenance was essential in light of anticipated cooperation between the Polish and Saxon forces.163 Grolman’s assessment of the state of defence in this province was pessimistic.164 The Grand Duchy of Posen, according to all appraisals, was a nodal region, a roadway to the heart of the Prussian state. Enemy occupation of territories between the Warthe and the Netze would divide Prussia into two parts, and would threaten the existence of the Prussian monarchy. Preventing should have been played by the Posen fortress, but the current state of its fortification practically ruled out such considerations. There were many proposals to improve the situation.165 According to Grolman, a drawback was its national composition. The large Polish population was hostile towards Prussia and, in his opinion, was

161 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 6–7. 162 The Prussian Ministry of Foreign Affairs materials in that time estimated the Polish army to have 25–30,000 soldiers, though with sufficient officers increase the number to 50,000; GStA pk, iii. ha, MdA, I No. 10576, [Notizen über die Stärke des russischen Armee], s.l., s.t. [13th March 1816?], s.p. 163 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 7–8. 164 On the state of the fortifications in connection with the mission and Grolman’s incoming comments: ibid., No. 332, Liebenroth: Bemerkungen, 105–111; ibid., No. 1, Valentini to Boyen, Glogau, 18th September 1816, 7; ibid., No. 332, Grawert to Boyen, Glatz, 18th January 1816, 101–103; ibid., Pullet to Boyen, Berlin, 9th November 1816, 44–45. On relations among the personnel: ibid., No. 1, Grolman to Boyen, Glogau, 2nd July 1816, 3–4. 165 A detailed description of the essential fortification works in Posen is included in the mission report; GStA pk iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Reise Bericht, 27-30v.

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only waiting for a chance to rebel. The remedy was a comprehensive Germanisation of the province, at the core of which was to be intensive military colonisation.166 This is a powerful example of how seriously Grolman treated a perceived threat of the Kingdom of Poland.167 Grolman devoted most attention to the defences of East and West Prussia on the right bank of the Vistula, which were territories exposed to an attack from three sides: the south, the north, and the east. Defence was to be based on Königsberg, where most of resources were concentrated, which, nevertheless, required considerable strengthening.168 Control of Königsberg provided a connection with Pillau and Gdańsk, albeit with the assistance of a fleet, which meant that the province could remain in touch with rest of the Prussian state. The advantage of East Prussia, in Grolman’s opinion, was its difficult terrain, intersected with lakes, marshes, rivers, and forests, which would allow inhabitants with the support of regular troops to resist the Russians for a considerable time. In the event of an attack, regular Prussian forces should concentrate at Insterburg, and the Landsturm should concentrate in the forest on the Memel river. The concentration point at Insterburg would allow the Prussian commander to deploy light detachments against enemy columns trying to cross the Memel river. Grolman compared the potential of this location to Napoleon’s camp at Laon in the 1814 campaign. If the Prussians failed to stop the enemy from crossing the river, they were to retreat to Wehlau (Welawa, now Znamensk) and Tapiau (Tapiewo, now Gvardeysk) and launch offensives against individual columns, while the Landsturm should threaten the Russian rear and communication lines. Grolman considered the Sambia Peninsula to be convenient for both offensive and defensive operations.169 If a battle should be lost, the defenders should regroup in the old Teutonic Lochstedt Castle, from where, with support of the fleet, they could attempt attacking the enemy. The chief means of ­halting the 166 In an earlier report, Grolman also analysed nationality issues in Bromberg; ibid., 35. 167 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 8v–12. 168 Hartmann stresses that Rauch did not share Grolman’s optimism with regard to the fortification of Königsberg, which he expressed in a letter to Boyen in August 1818; Hartmann, ‘Bemerkungen’, 23; cf. GStA PK, VI. HA, Boyen, No. 332, Rauch to Boyen, Berlin, 17th August 1818, 75–80. 169 It should be remembered, however, that in an earlier letter to Boyen, Grolman criticised Borstell for persisting to support the idea of concentrating Prussian forces in Sambia, with Königsberg as their base, despite not being prepared for this purpose; GStA PK, VI. HA, Boyen, No. 1, Grolman to Boyen, Königsberg, 7th September 1816, 2. This led to the aforementioned polemic involving Borstell, his gs senior officer Auer, Boyen and Liebenroth; ibid., No. 332, Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 6th October 1816, 34–35; ibid., Bericht des Majors Auers, Königsberg, 24th September 1816, 22–31; ibid., Liebenroth: Einige Gedanken, 32–33.

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e­ nemy’s progress was through maintainance of the network of waterways, especially those channels running into the sea. In his opinion, East Prussia had two main waterways that could be used for an invasion deep into the province’s interior. The first ran from the Memel river, along the coast, the Deime (Dejma, now Deyma), and Pregel to Königsberg; the other from Memel river, via the Gilge (now Matrosovo) then the Deime and Pregel to Königsberg. Both these waterways were linked by the Labiau (Labiawa, now Polessk). Grolman considered the reconstruction of the Memel fortress necessary only if Prussia had an offensive policy. However, the fact that it was an important port meant that it needed to be protected by strengthened castles on the Ragnit (Ragneta, now Neman) and the Labiau. The southern part of East Prussia, due to its numerous lakes and forests, was ideal territory for defence. The main defence positions, in his opinion, were Lyck, Neidenburg, and Lötzen. The Vistula line was protected by the fortresses of Gdańsk, Graudenz, Thorn, and Marienburg. Thorn was the most threatened position on the border, but at the same it checked the Modlin fortress, thus constantly threatening a Polish wing marching west. Thorn would always be the first target of Polish operations, indicated by the gathering of siege equipment in Modlin.170 Thorn, therefore, needed to fortify. Grolman considered the state of Graudenz’s defences to be satisfactory.171 The strategic importance of Gdańsk required it to be connected with Marienburg as its bulwark, which with time should be raised to the rank of a fortress. Natural conditions, earlier fortifications, and modernisations carried out by the French meant that Gdańsk was a formidable fortress, requiring only few enhancements. Pomerania and Neumark could only be threatened from the sea, which meant that special attention had to be paid to Kolberg (Kołobrzeg).172 Notice should also be taken of Küstrin, of key importance in the middle course of the Oder line once proper fortification improvemrents at Posen were seen to.173 Rauch began his own inspection of the eastern territories. In a letter of June 1817, he assessed the condition of existing Silesian fortresses as generally satisfactory. In his opinion, the state of the fortresses of Cosel, Neisse, Glatz, and Silberberg were excellent; Glogau was satisfactory; and the state of the 170 Though in 1819, the state of Modlin was still considered deplorable; ibid., No. 2, Thile i to Boyen, Warsaw, 26th September 1819, 10v. 171 Ibid., No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 12–20. 172 That same year an officer of the eastern Kriegstheater prepared a description of Farther Pomerania, emphasising the state Kolberg and Köslin (Koszalin); sbb pk, pdk, xxviii Pommern, No. 2, Hauptmann von Gerlach, Bemerkungen über die Vertheidigungs-fähigkeit von Hinter Pommern, s.l., summer 1817, s.p. 173 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 331, Grolman: Über die Verteidigung, 20–22v.

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S­ chweidnitz fortress was catastrophic. Accordingly, his inspection was detailed and exhaustive, testified to by his inclusion of the fortification conditions in Wrocław and Brieg.174 In the first half of 1818,175 Rauch visited Posen, Thorn, Graudenz, Marienburg, and up to Königsberg. The exact timeframe of Rauch’s tour is notknown, but between the 26th May and the 9th of June he was in Thorn, and on the 16th of June he began his return journey to Berlin, visiting on the way Pillau, Gdańsk, Kolberg, Swinemünde (Świnoujście), and Stettin. The Chief of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps to a large extent covered the same itinerary as Grolman had. Rauch announced that he would write extensive reports, and that the king would soon receive his report on Thorn, to which he devoted the most attention. His reports produced in May 1819 of the fortresses of Cosel,176 Glatz,177 Neisse,178 Silberberg,179 and Schweidnitz are extant,180 but nothing is found concerning his inspection of East and West Prussian fortresses. In that same year description of the Thorn fortifications was prepared by Major Canitz.181 Despite information that Rauch had been to Graudenz,182 no report is found. Rauch’s reports are largely technical. The fact that they exist shows that the 2nd Department did not have a monopoly in assessing the state of fortifications and the significance of points on the eastern Kriegstheater. The texts show the specificity of Boyen and Grolman’s reasoning with regard to the defence of the eastern provinces. The vastness of the territory and its backwardness forced a modified approach. The lack of resources precluded the idea of building Rhineland type fortifications in these areas. Far more than in the west, it was essential to know the terrain, given the weak road infrastructure, the few river crossings, and numerous forests, lakes, and swamps made East Prussia natural territory for the waging of a ‘small war’.183 For this reason Boyen insisted on basing defence on numerous Landwehr arsenals, a matter discussed during the conference in December 1817.184 By 1819, preparations

174 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Glatz, 27th June 1817, 43. 175 Ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Königsberg, 16th June 1818, 47–48v. 176 sbb pk, pdk, vii Cosel, No. 113, Ueber die Befestigung von Cosel, Berlin, May 1819, s.p. 177 sbb pk, pdk, xi Glatz, No. 119, Uebersicht der Befestigungen von Glatz, Berlin, May 1819, s.p. 178 sbb pk, pdk, xxiv Neisse, No.102, Ueber die Festung Neisse, Berlin, May 1819, 1–16. 179 sbb pk, pdk, xxxv Silberberg, No. 124, Ueber die Festung Silberberg, Berlin, May 1819, 1–12. 180 sbb pk, pdk, xxxiv Schweidnitz, No. 97, Rauch: Über die Festung Schweidnitz, s.p. 181 sbb pk, pdk, xl Thorn, No. 46, Canitz, Bemerkungen über Thorn, 1819, 1–8. 182 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 2, Rauch to Boyen, Königsberg, 16th June 1818, 47v–48. 183 Kessel, ‘Grolman’, 128. 184 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 147.

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were begun for the construction of new arsenals in Adelnau,185 Osterode (Ostróda), and Kopanica. Not much was achieved, however, before Boyen’s resignation.186 Works in Königsberg, Lötzen, Posen, and Thorn were considered during a conference held on the 20th of May 1818, but only the matter of fortifying Thorn persisted. Grolman’s proposals regarding the fortification of Görlitz, Wrocław, and Damm remained on paper.187 Boyen was a strong supporter of fortifying Memel188 and Lötzen, but was unable to implement these proposals before his own resignation. With regard to Lötzen, on the 12th of April 1819, Boyen instructed Brigadier Ludwig Philipp von Engelbrecht to produce a sketch,189 which was also referred to by Rauch.190 Opposition was reported by the East Prussia kg Borstell.191 In reference to Boyen’s letter, he stated that the position of Lötzen would only be strategically significant if there were fortifications on its flank on the Angerapp (Węgorapa) and that Königsberg would be able to support a corps strong enough to launch an offensive from East Prussia. Without a fortified Königsberg, the fortification of Lötzen, in Borstell’s opinion, would be of secondary importance. Should these conditions be met, its value would be doubled, allowing the Prussian offensive corps an opportunity to act or to withdraw beyond the Vistula. Borstell stuck to the concept of concentrating Prussian forces in Sambia,192 but also stressed the potential usefulness of points on the Ragnit, Lyck, and Neidenburg.193 He was also a supporter of the use of inhospitable terrain to gain an advantage over the enemy. Grolman’s personal obsession was the building of a fortress in Posen,194 work that did not begin until the 1820s.195 The ‘duumvir’ clearly intended to establish in every province a central point, providing a chance for forces to gather and hold the enemy back for as long as possible, though in theory the ideal cities 185 Already in 1817, Col. Groeben produced a description of the defensive potential of cities and towns on the left bank of the Oder. Similar work was carried out by Lt Trebra with regard to Adelnau and Militsch; BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 70v–71. 186 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 242–244. 187 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 141–142. 188 On this subject: GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Karl von Grolman: Ideen über die Befestigung von Memel, s.l., s.t., 82–92. 189 Ibid., Boyen to Rauch (copy), Berlin, 12th April 1819, 112–113. 190 Ibid., Rauch to Boyen, Berlin, 12th August 1818, 114–115. 191 Ibid., Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 6th October 1816, 34–35. 192 Ibid., Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 26th October 1819, 99–100. 193 Ibid., Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 17th April 1819, 98. 194 Ibid., Grolman to Boyen, Berlin, 2nd February 1818, 53; ibid., Karl von Grolman über die Befestigung von Posen, Berlin, 8th March 1819, 124–125. Boyen was also very interested in this subject; SA in Posen, HPPP, ref. No. 591, Boyen to Zerboni di Sposetti, Berlin, 5th April 1819, 43–48. 195 Bonin, Geschichte des Ingenieurkorps, part 2, 195–208.

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for this purpose, Posen, Königsberg, and Wrocław, were far from battle ready. It is difficult to understand how they imagined conducting of war in the eastern theatre. Among the kgs in the eastern provinces, only the opinions of Prussia kg Borstell are known.196 Borstell was concerned by the perspective of a RussianPolish invasion with a war on two fronts.197 In 1816, he estimated that the Russians were able to muster an army of 120,000 soldiers, which could cross a border stretching from Memel to the part of Silesia facing Poland. This left three border province Generalkommandos only 14 days to muster their forces in order for Königsberg and Thorn not to be captured by the Russians, the Grand Duchy of Posen to be lost, and Glogau to be threatened. Borstell was of the opinion that realistic countermeasures had to be taken. For this purpose he expected close collaboration with civilian authorities as to security measures in the provinces under his command.198 ‘Spezielle Anordnungen im Preußischen General Kommando’,199 which dates to 1816, contains 13 points concerning war preparations and in the provinces200 and strategic situations.201 The Landwehr and all other units were to mobilise, without the need for specific instructions, at the first sign that the Russians were preparing to invade. The Landsturm should be called to action as well, and cooperate with the standing army. Keeping secure the connection between Pillau and Gdańsk was essential to maintaining lines of communication via the Vistula. These two fortresses, together with Graudenz and Thorn, should be put into a state of complete readiness – the ability of Königsberg to defend itself depended on it. The coast also needed to be defended to keep Pillau secure. The forces at the provincial commander’s disposal comprised a brigade of Landwehr commanded from Königsberg, which were to be divided into three parts.202 The 1st Brigade (the 1st 196 Cf. Chapter 4. 197 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 6th October 1816, 34–35; ibid., Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 26th April 1819, 99–100. 198 Ibid., Borstell to Boyen, Königsberg, 6th October 1816, 34–35. 199 Ibid., Spezielle Anordnungen, 40–42r. 200 Ibid., 40–41r. 201 Ibid., 41r–42r. 202 All the forces under the command of the Generalkommando in East Prussia comprised two brigades. The Königsberg Brigade comprised the 1st and 3rd Infantry Regiments, a jaeger battalion, the 3rd (Lithuanian) Dragoon Regiment the 6th Uhlan Regiment, changed into the 2nd Cuirassier Regiment. The infantry regiments were respectively subordinate to the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th East Prussian Landwehr Infantry Regiments. The Gdańsk Brigade commanded the 4th and 5th (until 1817 the 30th Rhenish) Infantry Regiments, 4th Dragoon Regiment and 1st Hussar Regiment. Its infantry regiments were respectively subordinate the 5th East Prussian and 3rd West Prussian Landwehr Infantry

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I­ nfantry ­Regiment, and the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Landwehr Infantry Regiments) under the command of Maj. Gen. Karl Heinrich von Zielinski was to concentrate either on the Angerapp or on the Insterburg. The 2nd Brigade (3rd 4th and 5th Landwehr Infantry Regiments, and 3rd and 4th Landwehr Cavalry Regiments) under Maj. Gen. Tresckow,203 concentrated along the lakes near Lyck and had headquarters in Rastenburg (Kętrzyn). Provincial forces under the kg’s disposal, comprising a jaeger battalion, a dragoons regiment, and an uhlan regiment, gathered in Wehlau. The West Prussian (Gdańsk) Brigade was to concentrate in its garrisons in Gdańsk, Graudenz, Kulm, Marienburg, Goldapp (Gołdap), and Neidenburg. The strategic situation of Prussia and its capital, in relation to Russia and the Kingdom of Poland with its centre in Warsaw, was assessed to be disadvantageous. By the time the main forces were mobilised, only a defensive strategy would be possible. Only a victorious first battle of concentrated Prussian forces on the Oder line, probably at Frankfurt, or on the Warthe in the Grand Duchy of Posen, would allow offensive operations to be launched on Posen, Kalisch, or Warsaw. A war against Russia or France would necessitate Prussian cooperation with Austria. Prussia’s position with regard to Russia would not hold its eastern provinces to the Vistula, and would only maintain resistance in isolated pockets. The Kingdom of Prussia lines of defence against Russia could be divided into four sections: the course of the Oder from Cosel to the Katzbach (Kaczawa) confluence, from the Katzbach confluence via Glogau and Posen to Thorn and Schwetz (Świecie), through Graudenz and Marienburg to Gdańsk and the islands on the Nogat to where it flows into the Vistula, finally from the Nogat confluence along the coast to Königsberg, the Pregel, and Taciewo lines, the Deime line towards Labiau, and along the southern and eastern shores of the Curonian Lagoon up to Pillau. The first two sections constituted a main theatre of war. The third section required only the defence of the Graudenz fortress, entrusted to an independent commander. War in the final section should be conducted irregular. The plan required five measures: weapons depots between Glogau and Thorn, the fortification of Thorn, works in Dirschau and Gdańsk, and the construction of a fort at Pillau Regiments as well as the 2nd West Prussian and 3rd Pomeranian Landwehr Infantry Regiments. It should be noted that in the years 1816–1817 the above units underwent a process of ­military reorganisation and redeployment following the end of the Napoleonic Wars. The fact that the document still refers to the 6th Uhlan Regiment and 30th Infantry Regiment indicates that that it originates from 1816, whereas the next year the names of these provincial units were changed; ‘Nachweisung, wie die Brigaden gegenwärtig zusammengesetzt wird’, 122–124; ‘Uebersicht wie die Landwehr-Regimenter’, 251–253; ‘Dislokation der Truppen-Brigaden in Preussen’, 523–524. 203 Most probably Ernst Christian Albert von Tresckow.

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to ensure communication along the Prussian Baltic Coast. A related document enumerates Russian ­military objectives in Prussia and forces it expected to use.204 The Russian primary offensive was expected to strike at the Oder line and beyond towards the heart of the Prussian Kingdom, to put at a disadvantage Prussian forces in the Grand Duchy of Posen and Kingdom of Saxony. To this end, a Russian corps of 40,000 men would advance from the Memel river via Vilnius (Wilno) to Königsberg, in coordination with another corps of 20,000 men, comprising light units, advancing from Kurland towards Memel, Tauroggen (Tauragė), Tilsit, and Pillau. Another corps of 20,000 men was to attack Prussian territories from the Narew line around Soldau (Działdowo) and Saalfeld (Zalewo). In total, 100,000 Russian troops were to march from three directions against East Prussia (the document does not state the destination of the final 20,000 troops). The Russian forces would be divided into to two main groups. The first, comprising 140,000 men, was to gather on the Vistula and Bug line. Two corps (80,000), with their headquarters in Warsaw, were to advance via Posen towards Frankfurt (Oder). Russian forces (a Reserve Guard Corps of 60,000) mobilising on the Bug with headquarters in Bialystok did not have a specified objective. The second group of 60,000 soldiers, was to form a single corps. Its objective was to cross the Vistula and advance through Kalisch on to Wrocław. Light detachments were to operate in Upper Silesia. There was also to be a reserve force of 120,000 troops deployed on the Dnieper. The Russians were to direct in total an army of 429,000 soldiers.205 Against them, Prussia was to create three armies: one in East Prussia, another in Silesia, and the third as a reserve force. The central point for the former two armies was to be Posen with a military objective of Warsaw.206 The two documents are supplemented by a memorandum on the position of the eastern provinces submitted to Prince William on the 8th of January 1818.207 Borstell presented to the royal son his pessimistic stance regarding the predicament of Prussia’s easternmost provinces.208 Borstell, in his duty as a high-ranking officer, not only assessed the current state, but considered the possibility of an imminent outbreak of war. This was of particular importantance in the part of the kingdom entrusted to him, which was cut off from the 204 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Object der Rußen, 43. 205 Ibid., 43. 206 Ibid., 43v. 207 Ibid., Borstell: Über die von dem General-Kommando, 59–73. A summary of the memorandum, without providing any context as when and why it was written, is found in an article by Hartmann; Hartmann, ‘Bemerkungen’, 26–29. 208 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Borstell to Prince William (copy), Königsberg, 10th January 1818, 57–58.

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rest of the country and should not be left unprepared. He saw the Kingdom of Prussia threatened from the west by France, from the south by Austria, from the north by Great Britain with its monopoly on trade, and from the east by Russia. Each of these powers (Kriegs-Mächte) was twice as strong as Prussia in terms of population, as well as financial and military resources. In face of this, the Hohenzollern monarchy was left the role of defending the rule of law in European politics. In the event of war, the territories on its flanks would be most threatened, being the outermost flanks of the whole of Germany.209 The defence of the Rhineland was most important, as it concerned the general security of the continent. He noted the vain trust of Frederick William iii with regard to the intentions of Tsar Alexander, who since the establishment of peace with Paris was seeking to carry out his ‘Polish plan’ and take over control of the Vistula. According to Borstell, differences and general antipathy between the nations could play in the future a greater role than the friendship between the two current monarchs.210 Of course, the current situation of the East Prussian province was a product of the Congress of Vienna. A simultaneous attack of Silesia and the Grand Duchy of Posen meant that the defence of East Prussia would be treated in isolation.211 Borstell was of the opinion that forces under his command should have an operational base in the form of a triangle, with the Vistula on one side, the fortresses of Gdańsk and Thorn at either end, and Memel at the easternmost tip. The province’s geopolitical position was problematic and its connection with the rest the Prussian state limited. Moreover, it was bordered by Poland and Russia from the south and east, and from the north it was constrained by the Baltic Sea. This posed a threat from three sides.212 While landings from the sea were unlikely, they were possible in the event of a conflict with Britain, Denmark, or Sweden. In which case, Memel became essential in order to protect Königsberg and the connection with the Vistula. The fortifications of Memel provided no military value, a serious problem in light of the town’s potential significance in the defence of the whole province. It was, therefore, necessary to build a strong fortress at Memel to protect the Prussian coast and as a base for a Prussian offensive against Russia. As is, the Russians would be able to capture Memel with ease and next take Königsberg and Pillau, causing a ­collapse of the province’s defence system.213 Borstell noted that provincial 209 Ibid., 57–58. 210 Ibid., 58. 211 Ibid. 212 Ibid., Borstell: Über die von dem General-Kommando, 60. 213 Ibid., 60v–61v.

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commanders were not bound by higher instructions and, not able to depend on external support, would have to muster troops from their own zone.214 If unchecked by Austria, the Russians could direct all their forces against Prussia, advancing from Poland. This made East Prussia a natural bastion in the horseshoe-shaped eastern border, threatening from the flank advances towards the heart of the kingdom. For this reason, Borstell expected an enemy attack on his province from three sides with a force of 120,000 soldiers (not counting Cossacks). The Prussians should use all available means to stop them. A key role would be played by the three fortresses of Thorn, Memel, and Königsberg. The predicted direction of attack were 60,000 to advance from Warsaw towards Thorn. The objective was to capture Thorn as quickly as possible and isolate Graudenz. Another 40,000 were expected to attack East Prussia from Vilnius and Kaunas. Their objective could be the capture of Königsberg, which would put the entire area in the hands of the enemy. Moreover, 20,000 were expected to advance from Mitau (Mitawa, now Jelgava) towards Memel, Tilsit, and Labiau, with the intention of flanking Königsberg.215 Borstell’s intention was to comprehensively prepare the province for defence. He planned the lines of defence to extend from Spirdingsee (Lake Śniardwy) through the Deime and Pregel line to the Curonian Lagoon. The fortification of Lötzen, Memel, and Thorn was equally of importance. The central point in the province was Königsberg, whose preparation was still not completed and seemed more urgent than ever. Borstell argued for the fortification of towns including Wehlau, Labiau, Nikolaiken (Mikołajki), Dirschau, and Marienburg.216 The memorandum includes a 22-point action plan in the event of a Russian invasion.217 These ordinances corresponded to those of 1816. The standing army and Landwehr in East Prussia were to concentrate between the Inster (Wystruć, now Instruch) river and Rastenburg with headquarters in Wehlau; West Prussian forces were to gather between Preußisch Eylau and Bischofsburg (Biskupiec) in order to protect Graudenz; Thorn, Memel, and Konigsberg were to be put 214 Ibid., 62; Here, it should be noted interpretation of this sentence is problematic. It is difficult to say whether the lack of ‘higher instructions’ meant the lack of any guidelines or rather the lack of specific guidelines. It is difficult to say whether Borstell expected to issue instructions out of his own initiative or whether such was the practice. Finally, it could be the case that due to the specific position of the Generalkommando, there were no detailed instructions apart from a very general plan. This last interpretation seems to be the most likely, since the memorandum contains information about the potential actions of main forces and the position of the province in the event of war, but no instructions, which means that these were only speculations. 215 Ibid., 62–63. 216 Ibid., 63v–65. 217 Ibid., 67–69.

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immediately in a state of full readiness. The Landsturm was to be called up in border districts to combat Cossack i­ncursions. An East-Prussian corps would be mobilised in Wehlau primarily to protect Königsberg and fortified camps in Sambia. In the face of a superior enemy, it should carry out delaying tactics and, if the opportunity occurred, attack the flanks or rear of the enemy columns. The commander should avoid main battles and wait for a fortuitous turn of events in actions of the main Prussian forces on the Warthe and Narew.218 The document contains precise information concerning the strength of military forces in the province. On both sides of the Vistula, there were 89,206 men and 7,624 horses. The army corps on the right bank of the river comprised 23,213 soldiers and on on the left bank 15,429.219 Such forces were only suitable for manning fortified positions or at most for harassing enemy columns. Borstell’s views corresponded with those of Boyen and Grolman. East Prussia was to be an arena exclusively for defensive warfare, making use of difficult terrain, ramparts, and other fortifications. The small number of roads in the region made it easier to predict the direction of the enemy, raising the effectiveness of positions controlling these roads. Borstell did not deal with the defence of other eastern provinces. Nevertheless, he clearly assumed the main task of all these provinces was to delay the Russians long enough for the main Prussian forces to concentrate for a battle. This was to occur in the Grand Duchy of Posen. A victory would be an opportunity to attack Warsaw from both sides of the Vistula, which made holding that line and especially the Thorn fortress all the more important. Comparing this memorandum with the text by Grolman of May 1817, Stefan Hartmann noticed the similarity of opinions held by both generals with regard to courses of action to be taken as well as the necessity of fortifying certain points. Although the German scholar overlooks certain differences of opinion, for instance concerning the fortification of Königsberg and Lötzen,220 one can generally agree that Boyen, Grolman, and Borstell based their concepts for the defence of East Prussia on shared assumptions. The forces in that province were condemned to endure a solitary struggle, awaiting for the conflict to be resolved in another part of the Hohenzollern kingdom. However, in the event of war it was agreed that East Prussia would become the objective of the first enemy operations, both from the Prussian and the Polish (e.g., Prądzyński’s) perspective was to be the Oder line. Unfortunately, there are no extant operational plans created at the central level as there were for the western provinces. The mind set is, nevertheless, to 218 Ibid., 69v. 219 Ibid., 71–73. 220 Hartmann, ‘Bemerkungen’, 29–30.

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an extent revealed in two extant plans that were created by private initiative. The first was written by Lt Col. Samuel S. Seydel,221 a recognised specialist in the art of fortification.222 His perspectives on war with Russia were based on debates with other experienced officers, which he intended to present to Boyen as potentially useful.223 Seydel presented dark prospects for Prussia, assuming that within a short space of time the Russians would be able to occupy East Prussia up to the Vistula, Silesia, and parts of Greater Poland. He estimated that Russia would be able to raise three armies. The first (Nordarmee) would concentrate in the Riga area and advance with siege equipment towards the sea. The second army (Westarmee) was to be deployed between Grodno and Białystok. The last and strongest army (Südarmee) was to concentrate in Warsaw. According to Seydel, light Polish and Russian detachments would occupy border territories to cut off communication between the provinces and prepare the way for the main invading forces. Each main army would have a reserve army.224 The first objective of the Russian operation would be the conquest of East Prussia. The defeat of territories up to the Vistula would involve the loss of over a million inhabitants. The Russians would start the war by capturing Königsberg. The right wing of the Nordarmee, advancing from the Mitau area, would establish contact with the Russian fleet near Memel. Holding this city was important to the Russians while Königsberg remained in Prussian hands. Memel was to serve as a base for an attack on Jurbarkas, and in the next wave, Tilsit and the Insterburg for the capture of Königsberg. The Westarmee would simultaneously advance on Königsberg via Angerburg and Rastenburg. At the same time, the Südarmee would proceed from Warsaw to take up positions near Płock and Piotrków Trybunalski. Initially they would take a defensive stance, sending out small and mainly light detachments to East Prussia, via Płock and Soldau, to support the attack on Königsberg. Light units on the Vistula line would disrupt the coordination of enemy troops concentrated in East Prussia. The main armies would be followed by reserve Russians units advancing towards the Vistula line and would begin a siege of Pillau, crucial for 221 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Seydel: Ideen über einen Feldzug, 47–52. 222 Grolman repeatedly mentioned in his texts his concept of fortifying Posen; ibid., No. 1, Grolman to Boyen, Posen, 9th July 1816, 5-6v; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 15 B, No. 55, Reise Bericht, 35. Seydel also wrote a well known book on the history of fortifications in Prussia; S.F. Seydel, Nachrichten über vaterländische Festungen und Festungskriege, von Eroberung und Behauptung der Stadt Brandenburg bis aus gegenwärtigen Zeiten, aufgesetz für jüngere Krieger, parts 1–4 (Leipzig-Züllichau, 1818–1824). Also for this reason I do not understand why Rothe considered him to be impossible to identify; Hermann von Boyen, 95, footnote 40. 223 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 332, Seydel to Boyen, Posen, 31st May 1817, 46. 224 Ibid., Seydel: Ideen über einen Feldzug, 49.

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Prussian supplies. Part of the Nordarmee, cooperating with the fleet, would secure the siege. The other part of the Nordarmee would attack the Vistula line. At that time, its reserve army would reach Königsberg. As the Nordarmee approached the Vistula, the Südarmee would attack Thorn and Graudenz, whilst at the same time sending out detachments to the Grand Duchy of Posen. From there they would attack Glogau and, with light forces, cross the Oder to ransack Lower Silesia and Neumark. The main forces would advance on Wrocław. The reserve army would then be between Płock and Soldau. Südarmee forces detached from East Prussia together with Westarmee border units would march to Wrocław, which was to be surrounded from all sides, the Sudetes, Lusatia, and Posen, by light infantry. The main Südarmee would march to Silesia against the Prussian forces concentrated there. Its reserve forces would remain in Piotrków and Sieradz. A direct attack on the Prussian army was unlikely to succeed because its rear and flanks would be secured by a line of fortresses in Upper Silesia. Therefore, the Russians would instead observe its movements, simultaneously sending out light forces from Lower Silesia to Saxony and Neumark to cut off communication between the province and the rest of the country. Through the occupation of the Grand Duchy of Posen, Wrocław, and all of Lower Silesia, Prussia would lose another one million of its inhabitants. By then Pillau should be taken, which would be able to supply the siege army on the Vistula. Crossing the Vistula line was essential to securing coastal landings between Kolberg and Gdańsk. Graudenz would also be put under siege, and the Prussians would have to defend this fortress to allow their Küstenarmee and remaining forces to pass to the Oder. Graudenz was situated close to Polish territories and, in Seydel’s opinion, the inhabitants of Gdańsk were not especially devoted to the Prussian cause. By capturing Graudenz the reserve army would be able to cross the Vistula, and the Westarmee could approach the Oder line. Thus the inhabitants of East Prussia would be cut off and all resistance in the province would have to end. At the same time, Thorn would probably fall as a consequence of bombing and assault. If circumstances allowed them to hold on to Glogau, the Prussians should be able to hold territories between the Elbe and Oder. The fortresses of Stettin and Küstrin would remain in the rear. Upper Silesia would be left to rely on its own forces. The fortress of Gdańsk and Kolberg would have to keep coastal landing forces in check. Siege armies would approach Graudenz and Kolberg. Thus the Prussian state would be divided in two. This would necessitate concentrating all available forces in Lusatia and on the Oder line, apart from those manning the Upper Silesian fortresses.225 This disadvantageous situation result from the new shape of the borders. If the 225 Ibid., 49–51.

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Prussians still held the Warsaw region, the upper Narew and Memel river, a Russian offensive against them would be quite different. A strong fort at Memel could prevent Russian advances on Königsberg and actions of their fleet in the Curonian Lagoon. The resistance of Prussian infantry corps in the difficult terrain would pose considerable difficulties for the Russians. Despite their numerical superiority, they could be held in check between the rivers Memel and Gilgestrom (Gilga, now Matrossowka). News that the Nordarmee was encountering strong resistance in difficult territory between the lakes of Angerburg and Johannisburg (Pisz) near Memel and the Ragnit where a large infantry corps could not remain for long, would reach the commander of the army marching from Grodno. Nearby Lyck was protected on every side by water obstacles, which would make attempts to take it swiftly from the Prussians very difficult, especially if the corps marching from Warsaw were to be held back at Graudenz. Warsaw, as well as the Memel and Ragnit regions, could be used as a starting point for a Prussian offensive against Russia. In this case, forces in East Prussia, to the north of the main Russian forces, should maintain complete control of the territory between the Deime and the Pregel. Pillau and Memel were crucial to the defence of the Baltic coast. As long as the Prussians had defensive points in Memel, on both coasts, the Deime and the Pregel lines, Graudenz, Thorn, Marienburg, and Gdańsk, the Russians would have no foothold in Prussia. In his assessment of fortresses on the Vistula, Seydel noted that currently Gdańsk was no longer as essential as the French had regarded it to be. It would be of military significance in a war against Russia as long as the Prussians held on to Pillau. Graudenz was an offensive fortress against Poland, but required stronger fortifications. Seydel believed that if it was well prepared, 20,000 Prussian soldiers could hold back a force of 100,000 Russians. Maintaining the defensive status of Marienburg and Thorn would secure both sides of the Vistula line. Russians marching from Warsaw would not be able occupy Silesia as easily as East Prussia due to the fortresses in Upper Silesia, against which they could only allocate light siege forces. Conversely, a well conducted Prussian offensive on Warsaw from Upper Silesia, the Grand Duchy of Posen, Pomerania, and Neumark would be far more effective than an offensive from East Prussia. Seydel considered possession of Warsaw to be essential in forcing the enemy, threatened from three sides, to retreat from the former borders of South Prussia. At the same time, it was necessary to make sure that Russian raids did not disrupt communication between the provinces. In this respect, the possession of Glogau and Thorn was absolutely essential.226 The opinions of Seydel, an officer of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps, were consistent with 226 Ibid., 51–52v.

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those of ­Boyen, Grolman, and Borstell. The unfavourable shape of the border and the state of Prussian fortifications considerably hindered defence prospects. Seydel was in favour of amending both these deficiencies, but gave priority to fortification works, which were necessary to hold back the Russians and allow for an offensive in the direction of Warsaw. Similar to Boyen, he felt that security could be ensured through protection of river lines and a restitution of Prussia’s borders from before the Treaties of Tilsit. The defence of the eastern borders of Prussia was considered by Clausewitz. His memorandum on using roads in a war against Russia is, unfortunately, undated,227 though it justified to discuss it in this context.228 According to Clausewitz, a developed network of roads was favourable for offensives but unfavourable for defensive operations. It made no sense to him to attach importance to specific points, especially with regard to building exclusively for military purposes, for every war produced a unique set of circumstances. When Frederick the Great built a fortress at Silberberg, it proved to be useful only in the case of a war against Austria, and, only if it happened to be conducted by Field Marshal Leopold von Daun. Wrocław, on the other hand, was a different matter. As the capital of the province and a commercial hub it was a key point regardless of whether the war was against Austria, Russia, or France. The most important points in every province were commercial centres and communication hubs, invariably against which enemy operations were directed.229 The Prussian border with Russia was characterised by two protrusions, those of East Prussia and Silesia. In Clausewitz’s opinion, with the outbreak of a conflict with Poland and Russia, Prussia should expect to lose Silesia, East Prussia, and the Vistula, due to the state of fortifications of the provincial centres – Wrocław and Königsberg. It was difficult to think of concentrating forces in these areas. In East Prussia it was probably necessary to withdraw behind the Vistula. The situation was different in Silesia, which was a convenient base against Prussia’s eastern neighbour, Warsaw. Analysis of the shortest lines of operation indicated that the defence of East Prussia, the lower Vistula, and even Silesia were not possible if Prussia’s main forces were concentrated on the Netze and the Thorn region. Thorn was indeed positioned between two Prussian provinces and was just 20–30 miles from roads the enemy could use, but there were many options the enemy could chose. The assumption that the 227 ‘Ueber eine künftigen Krieg mit Russland in so fern er Einfluß auf die Anlegung der Kunstraße nach Preußen hat’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 2, 1163–1167. 228 Werner Hahlweg suggests that it was written in 1819. Contents indicates that it was indeed written around that time; Hahlweg, C. von Clausewitz, 47–48. 229 ‘Ueber eine künftigen Krieg’, 1163–1164.

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e­ nemy would always ­confront Prussian forces was false. In fact, an invader would only decide to fight the defenders if they stood in the way of a significant operational objective. This was not so in the case of Thorn. By contrast, control of Gdańsk, the lower Vistula, or Silesia was so important to the Russians that the Prussians could be forced to abandon their positions to defend those areas. Clausewitz also felt it was unreasonable to counter every enemy progress with flanking operations. Such a measure could be effectively undertaken when the enemy was advancing on an important objective, and then an attack could be launched from the rear, forcing the enemy to relinquish the goal. According to Clausewitz, this could not be applied against the Russians on the right bank of the Vistula in East Prussia. However, it was possible against an enemy advancing Wrocław from Warsaw if the Prussians then attacked Warsaw. This would be an advantageous move, because Warsaw was the capital of a foreign kingdom and its occupation would pose a serious threat to the Russian rear. If the Prussians were able to attack and defeat equal or superior Russian forces advancing on Silesia, the defeat would further the race towards Warsaw, especially if Austria participated in the fighting on Prussia’s side. It would still not constitute a decisive blow. If, on the other hand, the Russians managed to capture Wrocław, block Glogau, and lay siege to Gdańsk, an attack of Warsaw from Thorn would be pointless. The Polish capital was not of equivalent value to Prussian losses and it would be better to march from Thorn to Glogau. Clausewitz, therefore, felt it would be better to gather the main forces in Silesia, so that with the backing of Wrocław and Glogau they would be able to derfend offensively. In order to directly confront the Russians to advance on Warsaw required being capable of defeating them. This, however, he felt was the only possible option. Trying to stop the enemy using flanking operations without engaging in battle was divorced from reality and would result in the loss of the right bank of the Vistula and Silesia. Another variant assumed the actions of detached units attacking enemy lines of communication until losses led to abandon the offensive. The application of this variant required certain conditions: time, extended enemy lines of communication, difficult terrain, and support of the local population. The Prussians could not expect such conditions in the event of a war with Russia. In Clausewitz’s opinion, it was a mistake to deploy one’s main forces on the enemy’s flank. Instead it was better to position one’s army in front of the enemy, forcing it to march in a compact mass, without detachments, and the possibility of controlling the territory. Clausewitz saw examples of the tactic in recent campaigns in Russia and Spain. However, it is uncertain how one could attack enemy lines from Thorn if the Russians occupied Königsberg and were advancing on Gdańsk and Marienburg. In such a situation it would be necessary to march to the area of Graudenz

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and Marienwerder (Kwidzyn), but p ­ referable to have lines of communication in Konitz (Chojnice) rather than in enemy-threatened Thorn. It was unthinkable to operate from Thorn against a line of communication from Warsaw to Wrocław. Clausewitz stated that a war involving manoeuvres, evasions, and posing threats was appropriate to the Seven Years’ War and could be waged with success against Frederick the Great. Against Napoleon, however, such actions would be pointless. In his opinion, this erroneous approach resulted from attaching too much importance to securing supplies. This was a means to an end, not the goal itself. It could not decide an outcome, and certainly could not be a plan selected by defenders; they were the weaker side and had fewer opportunities to make use of the territory. Moreover, they had to devote more of their forces to protect war preparations than the aggressor. Clausewitz, therefore, proposed an extreme, one-dimensional interpretation of the Napoleonic Wars. In the context of the eastern border of Prussia, there was no point in considering lines of communication or the location of fortresses. Only the concentration of forces in the proper place and defeating the enemy could decide the outcome.230 The exact context of the memorandum is unknown, but it seems Clausewitz wrote it in protest against an eastern border plan that was being considered. One can see a convergence of ideas regarding operations that could be carried out from the Grand Duchy of Posen against Warsaw. On the other hand, Clausewitz decidedly rejected the idea of siege warfare. As in the case of the Rhineland, he attached importance only to those fortresses that were at the same time a province’s commercial centres. This was in clear opposition to the form of warfare promoted by Boyen and Grolman. Prussian strategic concepts show how diverse conclusions could be drawn from the recent Napoleonic Wars. There was not any generally accepted set of views. The reformers, Boyen, Grolman, and Clausewitz, agreed that the nature of war had changed and that now it had to be seen as an undertaking of an entire nation. By contrast, for officers such as Hake, whom Clausewitz called the ‘people 1806’, waging war was still the preserve of the standing army. Although, the patterns of action proposed by Hake, Müffling, and Seydel were actually in line with the views of the ‘duumvir’. Fortresses, flanking positions, central points, communication nodes, rivers and river crossings were all the basis for the preparation for war and the basis on which enemy movements could be predicted. The defence system promoted by Boyen and Grolman was acceptable because it left operational planning to generals who originated from the old army. The only ‘novelties’ were the concepts of waging a ‘small war’ and people’s uprisings, though mainly considered in relation to the ­eastern 230 Ibid., 1164–1167.

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provinces. By contrast, strategic plans for the Rhineland were more reminiscent of a Frederickian wars than of the recent 1815 campaign, a synthesis of military manoeuvres and a small war. What Boyen considered as a necessity, for Clausewitz, and most probably Gneisenau, was an anachronism. Clausewitz did not negate the obvious need to make preparations, but considered it pointless to plan the actual courses of action on the basis of the terrain. This was because a commander was always able to devise actions that were not only surprising but even unprecedented. Such actions did not need to be sophisticated, for they were essentially dictated by basic ideas, such as whether to fight a battle or march towards a main objective. The art was in the actual execution, and that could never be predicted. It is difficult to say how many Prussian officers shared Clausewitz’s stance in the 1815–1819 period. Nevertheless, it seems he was rather isolated in his opinions, for not only the conservatives but the leading figures of the reformers’ camp were inclined to perceive warfare in terms of manoeuvres. The Napoleonic art of war had a limited effect on Prussian perceptions of strategy in the years 1815–1819, as would be the case in the subsequent decade.

Chapter 8

The Military-Theoretical Views of Karl von Müffling The French army siege of Dutch occupied Antwerp in mid-November 1832 marked the last act in a crises that had consumed Europe for three years.1 The presence of the strong French army in this region worried the Prussian government and other German Confederation states.2 In the face of this crisis, the then Commander of vii Army Corps Karl von Müffling was ordered to form an observation corps on the Belgian border.3 Commenting on this decision, Natzmer was of the opinion that it resulted from the Berlin government’s conviction that Müffling was a ‘man of peace’ (Friedensmann),4 which was obviously due to his success in the Turkish mission and a clear contrast to the belligerent stance of his subordinate, viii Army Corps Commander Borstell.5 This decision, however, was not to the liking of a number of Prussian officers, including Witzleben and Natzmer, who were counting on war. Witzleben also doubted Müffling’s abilities to command and foresaw disputes between Müffling and Borstell.6 This situation reveals the many problems with making a coherent appraisal of Müffling’s opinions and actual actions. The study of Prussian strategic concepts in the 1820s is hindered by a lack of sources. Virtually nothing is known about the activities of the Ministry of War or any of the Generalkommandos. In contrast to the years immediately after the Congress of Vienna, most information concerns the activities of the General Staff in the years 1821–1829, primarily its chief Karl von Müffling. His posthumously memoirs published in 1851 omit the 1820–1829 period, chiefly focusing on his participation in the Napoleonic Wars and diplomatic missions after

1 Cox, The Halt in the Mud, 115–119; W. Heuser, Kein Krieg in Europa. Die Rolle Preußens im Kreis der europäischen Mächte bei der Entstehung des belgischen Staats (1830–1839) (Pfaffenweillen 1992), 342–358. 2 See Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 2: 1832–1839 (Gotha, 1888), 44–53; Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 377–378. 3 GStA pk vi ha, Müffling, No. A14, Instruction für den General der Infanterie v. Müffling, als Befehlshaber eines gegen die Maas aufzustellenden Observations-Corps, Berlin, 3rd November 1832, 56–57. 4 Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 2, 52. 5 GStA pk vi ha, Müffling, No. A14, Abschrift, an den General der Kavallerie v. Borstell, Berlin, 3rd November 1832, 60. 6 Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 2, 46–50.

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1815.7 Preparations for the most recent edition of his memoirs have revealed, among papers in the Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz, fragments of reminiscences from his period as Chief of the General Staff of the Army.8 This refutes the hypothesis that maintains that Müffling’s aversion to his office work accounts for a lack of information on this period.9 The general always placed military service first and for this reason he rejected Chancellor Hardenberg’s offer in 1819 of the post of a Prussian envoy to London. His interest was to serve in his own army rather than in a foreign headquarter, depending on the king’s promise to allow him to return to serve in the line.10 Müffling’s legacy contains a number of interesting documents,11 though the state of these documents impedes the ability to study them efficiently.12 The reason why there has been so little interest in his life and work lies in Müffling’s historiographic image. He is primarily known as the author of numerous works on the military history of the Napoleonic campaigns, in which he himself participated, including those of 1806, 1813, 1814, and 1815.13 The most extensive excerpts of his published memoirs concern the 1813–1815 campaigns. A characteristic feature of these works is criticism of the actions of key players in the campaign. This in particular concerns Napoleon, Blücher, and Gneisenau. In his 7 Müffling, Aus meinem (Berlin, 1851). Additional information on the period up to 1806 was published in supplement to the mwb (‘Auszug aus dem hinterlassenen Papieren des ­General-Feldmarschalls Freiherrn von Müffling gennant Weiss’, Beiheft zum ­Militair-Wochenblatt, July (1855), 25–42). Published in 1855 was a second full edition of his memoirs; Müffling, Aus meinem, 2nd Ed. 8 Karl Freiherr von Müffling, 244–292. 9 Walter, Preußische Heeresreformen, 508 footnote 37. 10 GStA pk, vi. ha, Hardenberg, K 55, Müffling to Hardenberg, Berlin, 11th April 1819, 16-17v. 11 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling No. A8, Betrachtungen über Ausbildung einer Armee, s.l., May 1822, 34–38; ibid., Entwurf zu einem Schreiben an Staastkanzler (mit Anlage) betrchatungen Landwehr-System, s.l., [1821], 9–31; ibid., No. A10 Übungen den Truppen, s.l., [1825], 3–12; ibid., No. A11, Pro memoria, Berlin, 5th April 1827, s.p.; ibid., No. A21, Bemerkungen über die preußische Armee, s.l., s.t., 12–16. 12 Here I am primarily referring to documents place haphazardly in files, often with no pagination, including many unsigned rough copies and undated sketches. 13 C. v. W., Operationsplan der Preußisch-Sächsischen Armee im Jahr 1806, Schlacht von Auerstädt, und Rückzüg bis Lübeck (Weimar, 1807); C. v. W., Preußisch-rußische Campagne im Jahr 1813 von der Eröfnung bis zum Waffenstillstande vom 5ten Juny 1813 (Breslau, 1813); C. v. W., Geschichte des Feldzugs der englisch-hannöversch-niederländischen und braunschweigischen Armeen unter Herzog Wellington und der preußischen Armee unter dem Fürsten Blücher von Wahlstadt im Jahr 1815 (Stuttgart und Tübingen, 1817); C. v. W., Zur Kriegsgeschichte der Jahre 1813 und 1814. Die schlesischen Armee unter dem Feldmarschall Blücher von den Beendigung des Waffenstillstands bis zur Eroberung von Paris (Berlin, Posen, Bromberg, 1824); C. v. W., Betrachtungen; C. v. W., Napoleons Strategie im Jahr 1813 von der Schlacht von Gross-Görschen bis zur Schlacht von Leipzig (Berlin, Posen, Bromberg, 1827).

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works, Müffling finds fault with their decisions and, like a demiurge, recommends opposite ­actions. His criticism is particularly significant in the case of Gneisenau. Müffling’s memoirs are replete with unfavourable comments, even suggesting that he acted to the detriment of the Prussia state as the leader of a clique within the army.14 Depreciation of a monumental figure of the Wars of Liberation did not do Müffling’s image any good in the eyes of German historians. His most vehement critics were Theodor von Bernhardi, Julius von PflugkHarttung, and Georg Heinrich von Pertz, who on the margins of their own works objected extensively to his views. Bernhardi accused him of distorting facts,15 bearing an open hatred of Blücher and Gneisenau,16 and shamelessly presenting himself as decisive of all positive events.17 He stated that Müffling’s memoirs were worthless as historical sources, or as secondary.18 In his work on the 1815 campaign dedicated to Gneisenau,19 Pflugk-Harttung expressed himself similarily, stressing that Müffling’s memoirs were contradictory to other historical works.20 Gneisenau’s biographer, Pertz, conceded that Müffling had been too close to events he described for historians to ignore his arguments altogether, but on the basis of materials from the General Staff Archive he made many mistakes in his presentation of the circumstances of the Battle of Laon, including his implication that Gneisenau had pursued interests of Prussia to the detriment of the Coalition.21 Many of the accusations formulated by German scholars are justified, which has affected the approach to evaluating Müffling as an historical figure. In the historiographic realities of the second half of the 19th century, a symbol of opposition to the Prussian renaissance could only be someone representing an anachronistic approach to the art of war. This fits perfectly with the idea of a conservative revival in Prussia after 1819. Müffling was neither a typical reformer nor a typical conservative. The enduring image of the Chief of the General Staff is that of someone holding conservative views while being in opposition to Gneisenau. Today, the basic source on views of Müffling and Prussian 14 Müffling, Aus meinem, 1st Ed., 54–55. 15 T. von Bernhardi, ‘Bemerkungen zum von Müffling’s hinterlassenem Werke: „Aus meinem Leben“’, Denkwürdigkeiten aus dem Leben von kaiserl. russ. Generals von der Infanterie Karl Friedrich Grafen von Toll, vol. 4, part 2 (Leipzig, 1866), appendix xxvi, 437–438. 16 Ibid., 432. 17 Ibid., 434–437. 18 Ibid., 439. 19 J. von Pflugk-Harttung, Vorgeschichte der Schlacht bei Belle-Alliance. Wellington (Berlin, 1903), particularly dissertation No. 14 ‘Müffling’s Memoiren’, 267–276. 20 Ibid., 86 footnote ***, 268–275. 21 ‘Müffling über die Episode der Schlacht bei Laon’, Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 4, 653–655.

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c­ oncepts of strategy in the 1820s is the fragment of an article by Böckmann on the history of the General Staff after the Napoleonic Wars, which is found in a collective work commemorating the centenary of Alfred von Schlieffen’s birth.22 Böckmann attributed to Müffling a policy of placing emphasis on defence, lines of communication, the expansion of a system of fortifications, and avoidance of main battles. The German author claimed that this resulted from an objective view of the weakness of Prussia, one in contrast with Blücher and Gneisenau. Müffling eradicated the Prussia principle of ‘marching to the sound of guns’, ascribed to victory at Waterloo,23 in favour of seeking superiority and ‘battlefield reconnaissance’. His attachment to the importance of lines of retreat was another deviation from the ideals of the heroes of the Napoleonic Wars. Moreover, Müffling was to consider a broken line of communication to be equivalent to a lost battle, a rule he was to introduce into the training process of young officers. For a German officer of the Schlieffen school, it was unthinkable that someone who had personally participated in the victory at Waterloo could hold such views.24 This negative appraisal of Müffling is enhanced by a critique of the tasks assigned to ggs officers written by Carl von Clausewitz in December 1827.25 The authority of Clausewitz has obscured the details of the actual training curriculum, often leading to absurd conclusions. Basing his arguments on Böckmann’s article, and ignoring the actual curriculum, Trevor N. Dupuy ascribes to Müffling not only a soft spot for defensive solutions, whose source he sees in his interest in the achievements of Frederick the Great and even Napoleon in his 1814 campaign.26 An expert on the works of Clausewitz and co-editor of the English language edition of the Prussian officer’s letters, Peter Paret focused his analysis of the criticisim of tasks assigned to officers without looking into the aims and circumstances of those assigned tasks. Paret uncritically accepted the opinions expressed in Böckmann’s text, accusing Müffling of sticking to pre-1806 precepts of positional warfare and the occupation of enemy territory.27 Thus the image of Müffling’s strategic concepts fits a dichotomous narrative in which his is a decidedly negative role.28 In reality the situation must have been more complicated, and an assessment 22 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 121–125. 23 The original name in German literature was the ‘Battle of Belle-Alliance’. 24 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 122–123. 25 Cf. Introduction. 26 Dupuy, A Genius for War, 48–49. 27 Paret, Clausewitz, 379–381; Paret, ‘Introduction’, 1–3. 28 A less dismissive tone is presented by Friedrich von Cochenhausen, who is of the opinion that Müffling was among those who supported the theoretical investigations of Clausewitz; Cochenhausen, ‘Klassiker’, 245.

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of Prussian strategic thought in the 1821–1829 should be analysed in the context of Müffling’s writings and the few extant traces of defence planning of that period. An analysis of Müffling’s writings poses several difficulties. Any systematic approach to formulating a military theory or defining specific military issues would be futile. The problem is not assisted by the general’s writing style. Although in principle his military viewpoints can be pereceived, I agree with Paret that even if Müffling had the intention of conveying general conclusions on the art of war, his writing style blurred them in a mass of detail.29 The polemical passages of his writings are the most useful, though a lack of consistency and doubts regarding the motivations behind his arguments are problematic. The absence of a formulated standpoint on the art of war contradicts how Müffling’s viewpoint has been judged. Perhaps the allegations that he was a self-aggrandising conformist are correct. It could be, however, that his outlook underwent a transition to a more conservative and traditional standpoint. A challenge is posed by works he published under the pseudonym ‘C. v. W.’, which is of importantance in analysing responses to Müffling’s opinions. Prior to 1821, one sees sharp polemical discussions,30 whereas reviews in the rest of that decade are decidedly enthusiastic.31 Perhaps the reviewers knew the identity of the author,32 and were compelled to praise his works, especially if they were published in the mwb, which was directly under his control. Müffling did not seem to treat criticism lightly, evidence of which can be found in a draft copy of his response33 to a review of his Zur Kriegsgeschichte der Jahre 1813 und

29 Paret, Clausewitz, 240–241. Paret primarily had in mind Preußisch-rußische Campagne. 30 ‘Über die Schlachten’, Denkwürdigkeiten, 228–243; ‘Über die Schlachten von Ligny und belle Alliance in Beziehung auf den Feldzug 1815, C. v. W’, mlz 2, 8 (1821), 601–614. 31 X, ‘Betrachtungen’, 274–280; ‘Napoleon Strategie im Jahr 1813’, mwb 12, 576 (1827), 3677. 32 It is difficult to unequivocally sate whether Müffling was identified as the author of his works in the 1820s and 30s. The generally well-informed Johann von Hoyer included his Betrachtungen in his catalogue of works on military thought, but unlike in many other cases, he did not decipher the author’s identity; J.G. von Hoyer, Litteratur der Kriegswissenschaften und Kriegsgeschichte (Handbibliothek für Offiziere, oder: Populaire Kriegslehre für Eingeweihte und Laien) 2 (Berlin 1832), 445. 33 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A9, Materialien zur Zergliederung einer Rezension über „Zur Kriegsgeschichte“ vom 178 und 179 der Jenaischer All. Litt. Zeitung Sept. 1824, s.l., s.t., 21–23v.

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1814 published in Jenaische Allgemeine Litteratur-Zeitung in 1824.34 He was strongly displeased with a rather delicate suggestion that during the 1813 operation, King Frederick William iii and Blücher might have inappropriately applied rules of military secrecy.35 In his opinion, such a harmful insinuation could not be left unanswered, for it cast bad light on both the Prussian sovereign and on a legend of the anti-Napoleonic campaigns, criticism that could influence young officers. Müffling consistently denied reviewers with no experience the right to assess recently ended wars on a theoretical basis. According to the subject of the majority of his works, this stance would effectively prohibit any polemics concerning their contents. In his work Marginalien zu den Grundsätzen der höheren Kriegskunst für die Generale österreichischen Armee of 1808,36 Müffling stated that all attempts to search for a ‘system’ for waging war were inadvisable and dangerous.37 Such rules were by nature one-sided. In the inability to establish a single, universal system, he considered the best approach to be a presentation of disputes between representatives of opposing views as Georg Heinrich von Berenhorst had done.38 Reference to a precursors of the ‘Romantic reaction’39 in Prussian military thought did not necessarily amount to a full acceptance of his ideas, though it does indicate what interested the future Chief of the General Staff. The Kantian inspiration from the works of Berenhorst is apparent. Müffling believed that the principles of the art of war were based on mathematical truths, the natural sciences, philosophy, and all other branches of learning. Time and space, in his opinion, were infinite, whereas the power of humans and animals was by nature finite and difficult to assess its potential. War required both physical and spiritual (intellectual) strength, which rarely appeared with equal measure in humans. This led Müffling to the conclusion that immutable precepts of the art of war could not be established. The commander must decided everything on the battlefield. Mathematics could be helpful to him for ordering certain matters, but when it came to assessing details he must resort to philosophy. Although armed forces could be presented in the form of 34

R., ‘Zur Kriegsgeschichte der Jahre 1813 und 1814’, Jenaische Allgemeine Litteratur-Zeitung 178 (1824), 457–464; 179 (1824), 465–467. 35 Ibid., 178 (1824), 458–459. 36 C. v. W., Marginalien zu den Grundsätzen der höhern Kriegskunst für die Generale österreichischen Armee (Weimar, 1808). 37 Ibid., v. 38 Ibid., vi footnote *. 39 This was reaction against the naturalistic, mechanistic and geometric perceptions of war that had been prevalenin the throughout the 18th century; Gat, The Origins, 139–154; Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 1–20.

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figures or lines, the length of a line, or an appropriate angle, they could not guarantee victory.40 The genius of the commander was always the decisive factor. The commander’s talents were innate and even thorough studies could never compensate for their lack.41 Müffling rejected the Austrian manual that there was only one right way of achieving success in a given situation, because a talented commander could always find an original approach to overcoming a problem.42 Therefore, in 1808 he was a determined opponent of attempts to create a positive science of war. This view was maintained in works written after 1815, though by then he had begun to invoke principles for assessing the actions of military commanders.43 In explaining the purpose for writing Betrachtungen über die großen Operationen und Schlachten der Feldzüge von 1813 und 1814, he explicitly stated that he had refrained from theoretical generalisations and discussions on alternative actions.44 Ever since Napoleon entered the arena, his battles and operations had been analysed in depth by distinguished authors, not least by Archduke Charles and Jomini,45 to such an extent that further considerations should be limited to the common sense rules. Müffling did not address the spectrum of possibilities, but rather the most probable and surest means of action in the given situation. He understood that various systems of waging war had been proposed, but he based his conviction on the highest usefulness being that of human resourcefulness to achieve military goals.46 Müffling, therefore, distanced himself from abstract considerations, proposing that the basis of all appraisals should be experience and the ability to adapt to a given situation. A reviewer of his work felt that Müffling had left the methodical study of amassed documents to other authors, acknowledging their superior skill in such matters and providing the reader space for interpretation. His goal, instead, was to combine his consideration of the history of war with lessons of war and thus draw conclusions adequate to given situations, something the reviewer considered to be Müffling’s great achievement.47 This attitude corresponds to Müffling’s letter to Hake in 1823 regarding editorial changes in the mwb. In it, Müffling states that military sciences played a secondary role in the 1813–1815 wars, in consideration of which the tendency of 40 41 42 43

C. v. W., Marginalien, 71–75. Ibid., 75–76. Ibid., 78. Cf. C. v. W., Betrachtungen, 30–34, 42–44, 113–114, 135; C. v. W., Operationsplan, 6–13, 20–24, 32–34. 44 C. v. W., Betrachtungen, iii–x. 45 Ibid., v footnote *. 46 Ibid., x. 47 X, ‘Betrachtungen’, 276–277.

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arrogant young officers to make generalisations should be condemned as inappropriate and even dangerous. Similar argumentation is found in the memoranda he wrote during the structural transformations of the gs. His constant concern was to prevent the emergence of the pereception in the General Staff as a group of ‘professor-theoreticians’ quite detached from practice.48 Of course, formal education should not be neglected, deficiencies that could not be amended in wartime, but it was only part of the knowledge that a young officer should possess. That was how he argued the case for rotating officers between the gs and service in the line infantry, stressing that practical command of troops before and during a battle was a distinguishing attribute of senior officers. Those officers who had had experience in the general staff and had also commanded troops were deserving of the greatest trust.49 A degradation of the gs could lead to a revival of the negative phenomena from the times of Karl von Phull, Christian von Massenbach and Karl Ludwig von Bergen, whose ostentatious ‘learnedness’, in Müffling’s opinion, did more harm than good. He blamed those generals for creating an atmosphere in which junior officers of the gs felt entitled to arrogant behaviour. Staff officers were obliged to develop knowledge of Kriegswissenschaften, but it was equally important to regularly practise aspects of service in the line troops.50 The Chief of the General Staff of the Army was clearly sceptical of other than commonsense forms of thought and consistently avoided inclinations towards a theory of war. Many years later, however, he defined himself as a supporter of the careful and methodical approach to waging war.51 His earlier declaration was to illustrate the differences between his opinions and those of Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. Scharnhorst was methodical, working out details, leaving nothing to chance. Gneisenau had a lighter approach, trusting presence of mind and personal genius. Consideration of every possible eventuality bored him. He believed there was only one correct approach any problem and focus of attention was the approach to that end. Therefore, the dispute was not about fundamental issues, but about differences in character. However, bearing in mind Clausewitz’s criticism of Prussian defence concepts, this declared a certain way of looking at the art of war. Müffling was primarily a supporter of thorough studies, deliberations, and preparations for every detail of war, so that with the outbreak of hostilities there could be a swift assessment of the situation and response. To this end he devoted the work of the General Staff. In contrast to 48 GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 2, Müffling to Hake (draft), Berlin, 28th October 1821, 71–72v. 49 Ibid., Pro Memoria, 10th March 1824, 105–112v. 50 Ibid., First draft of Müffling’s Pro Memoria, 169–171. 51 Müffling, Aus meinem, 2nd Ed., 29–30.

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Gneisenau and Clausewitz, who treated each situation as unique, he believed it was possible to anticipate variants of action conditioned by material and geography. It seems his views were closer to those of Boyen and Grolman, and closer to a continuity in the highest circles of the Prussian army. Müffling emphasised the changes in the art of war resulting from the Napoleonic wars. Criticising the Austrian military manual, he stated that its author did not fully appreciate the influence of increased mobility and requisitioning. The major change was that fortresses were no longer a decisive factor, which resulted from the introduction of requisitioning. Although blocking fortresses in the rear was still essential, this no longer had such a decisive influence on operations.52 It was a fundamental change from the system that had emerged in the wars of Louis xiv and xv, which attached great importance to operational plans as the basis of all actions. Campaigns were likened to a game of chess, and nothing could be more unnatural than planning an operation as series of pre-ordained moves. In fact, in the case of operational planning, several possibilities existed and it was difficult to decide which would be the most effective. This was a decision only a commander could take.53 The modern art of carrying out operations was based on the ability to divide and unite major forces so as to carry out swift marches and concentrate forces in a large mass for a main battle. The same principles applied to strategy and tactics. Likewise was the principle of secrecy, indispensable to the element of surprise, which, according to Müffling, in war was everything.54 Müffling also objected to a rule in the Austrian manual stating that positions should not be taken up without reserve forces. This, he felt, was contrary to a rule early in the manual stating that in the event of war, all available forces should immediately be deployed. The author of the manual, referring to experiences of the French Revolutionary Wars, stated that reserve forces were indispensable and frequently proved to be a decisive factor in victories – although one could also point to many instances when they actually prevented successful outcomes. Reserve forces were used to gain numerical superiority on the battlefield or, alternatively, to secure a defeated army’s retreat. In Müffling’s opinion, such an approach was wrong. Since the concentration of all available forces at a decisive point was necessary to achieve victory, any weakening of those forces by creating reserve units limited the chances of victory. The use of reserve forces in the event of a retreat suggested that the deployment of those forces would have made a 52 53 54

C. v. W., Marginalien, 88–91. Ibid., 127–128. Ibid., 129. Similarly GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A9, Materialien zur Zergliederung, 21–23v.

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­retreat unnecessary?55 Müffling believed that a major military change was the simultaneous increase in the size and the speed of the army, which allowed for greater dynamics in warfare. He maintained this point of view during and long after the Napoleonic Wars. In 1825, Müffling stated that the system of requisitions, universal conscriptions, and flexible promotions were the fundamental elements of Napoleon’s system that allowed him to operate with greater speed than his enemies and to make use of distances and numbers of troops on a scale unknown in previous campaigns. His system was calculated to wage war in conditions where all could be decided in battles and swift marches. Always attacking with numerical superiority, he skilfully divided his forces during marches and concentrated them on the battlefield. This allowed him to remain undefeated until his enemies mastered the same abilities. Müffling’s assessment of the consequences of Napoleon’s system, however, might indicate that his views had become more conservative. He argued that the old system had been based on European principles, whose virtues were the protection of property, prevention of the overthrowing of thrones, and limiting the consequences of war to certain, measurable loses. Napoleon, on the other hand, waged wars in foreign countries, without legitimacy or a sense of responsibility, which initially gave him an advantage. His example, however, confirmed the old truth that progress in the history of mankind had to be gradual, whereas drastic leaps forward ultimately ended with failure, which were contrary to eternal laws that only things that were thoroughly prepared could last.56 It seems, therefore, that Müffling’s acceptance of changes in warfare were followed by a reflection on the unfavourable consequences of this change. Nevertheless, he realised that the old system was gone. The heart of the new system was the battle, the greatest of all military operations. Just as a theatrical play was performed in acts, so too a war was resolved in individual battles.57 The main principle espoused by Müffling was to unite forces for a decisive battle, whether it be offensive or defensive.58 The clash of major forces was an indispensable element of war, and in his written works Müffling frequently recommended attack as the preferred form of action.59 His stance is best exemplified in his analyses of concrete cases. In his assessment of the 1812 campaign, he stated that the outcomes of military operations were dependent on time, and even argued that a victorious battle could 55 C. v. W., Marginalien, 82–85. 56 C. v. W., Betrachtungen, 141–143. 57 Ibid., iii–iv. 58 C. v. W., Marginalien, 77. 59 C. v. W., Operationsplan, 6–13; C. v. W., Betrachtungen, 30–34, 42–43, 115–116, 135; Müffling, Aus meinem, 2nd Ed., 75, 128–129.

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a­ ctually lead to defeat because of pre-planned retreats. However, this statement could be misleading, because strategic retreats that he termed a system of attrition (Ermattungs-System) happened by chance; the Battle of Borodino wa essential to victory, even though a defeat for the Russians. In Müffling’s opinion, this showed that there were situations where engaging in a battle was essential, regardless of who wins.60 Müffling aroused controversy in his criticism of Napoleon’s actions at Ligny and Quatre-Bras. In his opinion, the coalition forces made a number mistakes that could have enabled Napoleon to defeat two separate armies. Above all, the allies had allowed themselves to be caught off guard, when their troops were not in battle formation and their armies were not cooperating with each other.61 Müffling stated that the situation would have turned out differently if Napoleon had not ordered an advance on Saint-Amand and, if at Ligny he had attacked with forces of equal or superior strength to those of the enemy. Instead, the attack was with weaker forces, which was the worst of all possible options.62 The best option, in Müffling’s opinion, would have been to march in two columns, which would have allowed the French to enter between the two allied armies with a full force and attack the army at its weakest. Napoleon at least should not have attacked the Prussian rear left flank, but rather the right flank, which would have divided the allied armies. He would thus have been more successful because he would have been fighting with his whole army against just one of the enemy’s armies. Lacking spies and good reconnaissance meant that Bonaparte was unable to make use of Wellington’s tardiness in joining forces with the Prussians.63 As a result, his entire plan for the Battle of Waterloo had to take into account the possible arrival of the Prussian army, for which reason he lost freedom of action and had to attack Wellington’s left flank to prevent the two allied armies cooperating with each other.64 These claims provoked a discussion in Prussian periodicals. An anonymous reviewer pointed out that Müffling’s solution was too risky, as the manoeuvre he was proposing only applied on a strategic level when the armies were so far apart that they could not support each other. On a tactical level, however, when the French would be attacking in view of both enemy armies, this would have been a dangerous manoeuvre. The Prussian right flank was only a hour’s march from the British forces. Both armies could see each other and communicate by adjutants. If Bonaparte had decided to 60 61 62 63 64

C. v. W., Preußisch-rußische Campagne, iii–iv. C. v. W., Geschichte, 70–80. Ibid., 16–17. Ibid., 17–18. Ibid., 20–23.

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march in two columns and not confronted the British with sufficient forces, Wellington could have simply marched his troops to the left side of the road, joined the Prussians, and together could have inflicted on the French a ­Rossbach-style defeat. All the circumstances would be in their favour, with the Prussians holding the key points and close proximity between the two allied armies. Bonaparte could be taken in a pincer movement and separated from the rear of his army. For these reasons, he reviewer found it hard to consider his attack on Ligny as the worst possible option.65 Furthermore, he believed that Bonaparte should have committed more troops to attack the Prussian left flank and cut the Prussians off from their lines of retreat towards the British.66 He had his own opinion about the Battle of Waterloo, based on his doubts as whether holding back reserve forces to be used at the critical moment was still applicable in modern battles. The battles of Frederick the Great had involved the deployment of troops close to the enemy, whose positions could swiftly be reviewed and the weakest point attacked. The battles followed a regular and elaborate pattern, like written work in contrast to a work of unpredictability. The entire battlefield was where the commander could prove his keen eye. The reviewer did not indicate that all of that had disappeared in the modern art of war. ‘March separately, strike together’ was a Napoleonic maxim, lessons that could still be learned from the old master. The author of the review felt that after swift assessment of enemy positions, the French should have attacked the enemy’s left flank as quickly as possible. His inspiration was the Battle of Leuthen, which was resolved in the time it took Bonaparte to decide that he would attack the British before the arrival of the Prussian columns. He believed that a rapid destruction of the British forces would have benefited Bonaparte. In his opinion, the Frederickian method of attacking brought far fewer losses than the contemporary practice of deploying deep groups, and especially when buildings were available for defence purposes.67 This review shows that old patterns of military thought were still holding on in Prussia. Müffling was unequivocally inspired by Napoleon’s campaigns, and considered his standard manoeuvre of moving between enemy armies to be justified in the 1815 campaign, though in that particular case the move was too bold and risky. This point of view was shared by other Prussian officers, which was why a polemical article in response to the critical review appeared on the pages of the mlz.68 The author of the article supported Müffling’s point of view, arguing that by 65 66 67 68

‘Über die Schlachten’, Denkwürdigkeiten, 228–229. Ibid., 230–231. Ibid., 233–236. ‘Ueber die Schlachten’, mlz, 601–614.

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marching between enemy armies without tying the British down at QuatreBras Bonaparte risked very little and was the only way to divide the two armies. The British were not concentrated and Napoleon had the freedom to attack the near flank of either of the enemy armies. The main rule was to deploy against the enemy army only enough troops to hold it back. Wellington could send no more than 10–15,000 troops to help the Prussians. Therefore, Napoleon should have sent a much smaller force to Quatre-Bras than he actually did. Destroying the Prussian army by attacking its right flank could have led to a swift French occupation of Belgium and forced the enemy to retreat beyond the Rhine. Alternatively, a frontal attack on Ligny could only have resulted in an occupation of the battlefield. Strategic considerations also spoke in favour of attacking the Prussian left flank – it was doubtful whether a more thoroughly defeated Prussian army would have been able to march to join the British at Wavre. The author, however, saw a pattern in Napoleon’s actual decision. Ligny was not the strongest point in the Prussian group, further weakened by sending troops to support the right flank, and therefore was a typical attack on the centre that characterised Napoleon’s battles. In strategic terms, this was not a good decision, offering smaller benefits for a larger expenditure of military resources.69 The reviewer’s proposal of attacking the left flank, on the other hand, was also pointless, because there the Prussian position was the strongest. The Prussian right flank could easily advance with the support of the British, which could lead to the French being encircled.70 The author of the polemic was also sceptical about the reviewers ideas regarding the Battle of Waterloo. The proposed Frederickian tactic required for its long lines reconnaissance of terrain, circumstances, time factors, and, above all, reconnaissance of enemy positions, accounted for good planning and order. This was an exemplary tactic of its day, requiring exceptional intelligence. Contemporary concepts of tactical perfection stem from that period during the Seven Years’ War. Now, however, there were extended lines, large masses of troops, use of diverse sorts of obstacles in the terrain, selection of positions, masking one’s own formations, all of which formed the ‘physiognomy’ of modern battles, making them less ordered because they were governed by a far greater number of combinations and initiatives. That was the reason why Napoleon could not apply the battle tactics applied in Frederick the Great’s day.71 The author of the polemic also argued that it was a good rule not to deploy more troops than was necessary, and to have reserve troops in case of an unfavourable turn of events. He felt the reviewer 69 70 71

Ibid., 601–605. Ibid., 605–607. Ibid., 607–609.

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did not understand modern tactics, where the flanks no longer always played a decisive role. Tactical success now usually relied on applying untypical moves, providing the element of surprise and boosting morale in one’s troops. Only the peculiar circumstances of the Battle of Leuthen and the morale of the greatest commander of the 18th century allowed Frederick ii to fight with such shallow battle formations. This could not be done in 1815.72 Müffling’s views, which aroused such lively discussion, show him to have been a supporter of the bold actions stemming directly from changes in the art of war. Significantly, at the base of his arguments was a criticism of Napoleon for acting too timidly; accepting Bonaparte’s methods did not mean an uncritical assessment of his actions. Müffling was considered to be one of Prussia’s harshest critics of Napoleon, especially of the attempts to mythologise his character.73 He was convinced that it was largely by betraying his own principles that the emperor of the French fell. Nonetheless, with regard to the new system, Müffling criticised both sides of the Napoleonic wars. In the context of the 1813 campaign, Müffling accused the coalition side making mistakes in the Battle of Großgörschen. Instead of waiting near Bautzen for the forces of Napoleon and Michel Ney to attack, they should have given the French an offensive, utlilizing the fact that their forces were separated.74 Significantly, he also criticised Napoleon, in turn, for seeking a battle when he should have withdrawn his forces to concentrate in a safe position on the Elbe and not attacked a numerically equal army in fortified positions near Bautzen.75 Polemicizing with the views of the French General Jean Jacques Pelet, Müffling rejected the possibility of treating Napoleon’s decisions in the 1813 campaign as exemplary.76 Immediately after the end of the armistice, he should have chosen one of three courses of action allowing him to destroy the allied army before it could concentrate. He could have attacked Blücher’s army, over which he had threefold numerical advantage. This, however, would have put him at risk of losing Dresden. Alternatively, he could have launched an offensive against the North Army, captured Berlin, Stettin, and Küstrin, but that would have probably meant losing control over Saxony, crossings the Elbe, and making possible the joining of the armies of Bohemia and Silesia in battle against his forces. Hence, Müffling felt the best option would have been the third, which was to attack the strongest enemy 72 73 74 75 76

Ibid., 610–612. ‘Napoleon Strategie im Jahr 1813’, 3677. C. v. W., Betrachtungen, 12–13. Ibid., 26–29. C. v. W., Napoleons Strategie, 16–34.

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army, that of Bohemia. To this purpose he could have used all his troops to resolve the war, or at least have gained time to prepare another campaign without having to fear the allies coming to an agreement. This would have been in keeping with the Napoleonic principle of the economy of forces, which Bonaparte in this case betrayed. Only the defeat of the Army of Bohemia could have resolved the war favourably in a way that would not be affected by the possession of territorial points.77 Instead Bonaparte allowed the allies to join forces and trap him at Leipzig. According to Müffling, Bonaparte avoided a fight when he should have sought it, and engaged in combat when he should have avoided it. His greatest mistake was his failure to defeat Karl von Schwarzenberg’s army, the strongest of the three allied armies, and thus again gave up his own principles, those of the concentration of forces and the element of surprise.78 The actions of the emperor of the French had lost his flair, and had failed to appreciate that his enemies had learned from their failures in previous campaigns.79 While acknowledging Napoleon’s contributions, Müffling believed he did not always follow the rules that had been ascribed to his authorship. In the context of each of the cases he considered, Müffling provided several options of action and selected the best. Accurately calculated risk was clearly a part of the Müffling’s philosophy of war. Analyses of Müffling’s views on military theory have been presented in a simplified manner. In his writings, it is hard to find a supporter of the 18thcentury strategy of manoeuvres. He was a strong advocate of dynamic and aggressive campaigns, to such an extent that some of the actions he proposed could be considered too risky. The Chief of the General Staff of the Army had no doubt that the art of war had undergone changes, making irrelevant the old, geometric perception of war. In his writings, there is no question of avoiding war. Quite the opposite, his generally preferred option is an offensive leading to a head-to-head battle. The lack of declared principles on which he based his opinions, coupled with excessive criticism, makes it difficult to determine whether Müffling was genuinely in favour of particular solutions or was only promoting is own, alternative point of view. 77 78 79

Ibid., 18–22. Ibid., 57–67. Ibid., 32–34.

Chapter 9

Evidence of Prussian Defence Planning in the Years 1820–1830 Few archival materials have survived to allow for an assessment of Prussian defence planning in the 1820–1830 period.1 According to Böckmann, Müffling expected attacks from three sides: the west, the east, and the south.2 With this in mind, he organised a number of Generalstabsreisen during his term in office to teach General Staff officers how to carry out defensive operations. On the basis of available archival material, Böckmann stated that in that period there were two rides in the western, two in the eastern, and four in the central theater of war.3 the conclusion is that Müffling was most fearful of an attack on the south. However, these staff rides rather than being in terms of defence planning, were primarily conducted for educational purposes.4 The most interesting d­ ocument from this period is found in Groeben’s instructions for border unit commanders issued in Wrocław on the 15th of December 1821.5 It contains information on preparations for war at the central level and in the provinces. Above all, it specifies the tasks of vi Army Corps in the event of war in each of three possible variants, corresponding to the theatre of war sections in the ggs. In the event of war in the west, the vi Army Corps was to cooperate with another army corps on the Rhine and support, if necessary, the Dutch army. Troops from Silesia were to march to Gießen, and then join other Prussian units, march either north or south, as the situation required. In the event of war in the east, the extreme left flank of the corps was to withdraw or shift aside depending on an advancing or an anticipated enemy offensive. The rest of the forces were to concentrate, if the situation required it, to the south or north of the position of corps, depending on where the campaign would be fought. If the war came from the south, the corps was to be deployed in the centre of the Prussian forces with other corps cooperating with it or deployed on the flanks, as the situation required. Although these were not detailed instructions, the document suggests that there were plans that had been sent to 1 Despite the title, the excerpts from the 1826–1830 Jahresberichte do not contain materials prepared by Stoeckel; BA-MA, rh 61/381, Auszüge, 2–3. 2 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 122. 3 Ibid., 124. 4 Cf. Chapter 4. 5 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. i Ca2, Instruktion für die Grenzkommandos, s.p.

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the h ­ eadquarters of individual army corps, and that the corps commanders had probably received guidelines in the event of conflict in each of the theatres of war. The main task of the corps gs officers was to calculate accurately the time and territory necessary for military operations. The cooperation between particular divisions was to be determined by divisional staff officers on the basis of calculations. A day’s march was to cover three miles; on the fourth day the troops were to rest. More detailed preparations for division, brigade, and regiment commanders were to be carried out by gs officers. Capt. Trebra was to deal with artillery and supply trains, while Maj. Dieter dealt with kg resources and gs officer tasks. The instructions called for attention to be paid to local relations within and beyond the corps’ district, and in the event of war in one of the three major events (Hauptfälle). All General Staff actions were to be modified in accordance with events in one of those three theatres of war. The war in the west was to be the least intrusive to neighbouring states. The corps should reports from all reconnaissance of the given province and its roads to its archive. On this basis, marching calculations were to be created and strategic points were to be specified. Active intelligence gathering was recommended to supplement earlier reconnaissance work. Maj. Dieter was assigned to issue orders putting the province in a state of combat readiness. The most important task was to fortify Wrocław. The fortresses were to be manned by second call-up Landwehr. The manning requirements for the fortresses were as follows: Neisse 6,000, Cosel 3,500, Glatz 7,000, Silberberg 1,200, and Wrocław 15–20,000, with various possibilities considered depending on the situations. On the basis of this document one can assume the vi Army Corps command possessed variants of action in the event of war with each of Prussia’s largest neighbours. It is difficult to determine how this functioned in practice or how specific instructions were in particular corps as no war plan sketch from this period has survived. It seems, however, that determining the points of concentration in the event of war fit in the scheme as they stood in the Boyen and Grolman period. Corps commanders were firstly to prepare their forces for the defence of the province, and secondly, to mobilise and concentrate their forces in the event of conflict with one of the theatres of war. Possible actions, as in the years 1815–1819, would probably be based on the lines of rivers and the system of fortresses, under whose protection the main forces were to concentrate. Such a suggestion is contained in the account of the Austrian General Steigentesch from his trip to Berlin in 1824.6 In a presentation to Metternich, he stated that in view of its geographic location and the state of the Prussian army, in particular the extension of its territories by 179 6 Stern, ‘Ein Bericht’, 255–268.

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miles from Palanga to Aachen, the Hohenzollern kingdom was forced to keep its nation under arms. The forces comprised four groups located along the rivers that divided the country. Supported by fortresses, the banks of the rivers between them were obvious concentration points in the event of war. This constituted the area between Koblenz, Cologne, and Wesel on the Rhine, between Torgau and Magdeburg on the Elbe, between Küstrin and Stettin on the Oder, and between Gdańsk and Thorn on the Vistula.7 It is difficult to say whether the Austrian general was expressing his own observations or repeating what he had been told by Prussian officers. Despite the known plans to muster four Armee-Abtheilungen, it would be incorrect to assume that the Prussians would operate in separated masses. The lines of defence along the four rivers were the basic Prussian defence concept in the first years after the Napoleonic Wars, and would seem that this reasoning was continued. This assumption is confirmed by Müffling’s memorandum of the 5th of June 1827,8 in which the Chief of the General Staff of the Army stated that the western and eastern borders of the state were well protected by natural features, in particular the courses of major rivers, and to the north the coastal regions were protected by sea. The lines of the Rhine, Weser, Elbe, Oder, and Vistula were, according to him, strengthened by the construction of fortifications, which secured river crossings and provided time for the concentration of forces.9 The situation on the southern border was quite different. There, Prussia was weak, particularly in its central point, for the border to the west of Görlitz and the Sudetes was open, providing the enemy freedom to attack between Zittau and Schandau. By advancing through Spremberg and Elsterwerda, the enemy could reach Berlin within five days. According to Müffling, up to the Nuthe and Notte there were no defence positions that would allow a numerically inferior army to resist a stronger enemy. Positions behind the Nuthe and Notte were practically useless in dry years, as the water level in the rivers was low. Thus, Prussia was least secure in its most crucial and sensitive part, one that was essential to its very existence. This is because an attack there could mean the loss of Berlin and cutting the state into two parts. The area between the fortresses of Torgau and Glogau was so vast (a nine days’ march) that it could not possibly be an obstacle for an enemy army. In Müffling’s opinion, efforts should have been undertaken since the Paris Peace Treaty to improve this situation, all the more 7 Ibid., 266–267. 8 GStA pk, vi. ha, Müffling, No. A11, Pro memoria, s.p. According to Major Staff, Müffling was to have presented a similar memorandum already on 10th April 1827; GStA pk, iv. ha, Rep. 5, No. 3, Vorarbeit, 39v. 9 Bremm, Von der Chaussee, 35–36.

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so because the Austrians were assessed to be able to concentrate 100,000 troops in Bohemia and Moravia. It was the duty of the Chief of the General Staff of the Army to point to faults in operation drafts (Operations Entwürfe). The minister of war, however, decided not to follow up on Müffling’s recommendations due to a hierarchy of tasks regarding the Prussian defence system. Priority was given to fortifying the Rhine and there was no desire to divert resources to new projects until those fortifications were completed. Moreover, after the completion of the Rhine fortresses, a fortress in Thorn was considered most important, and then Posen. Only after these projects were finished, was it considered advisable to build a fortress between Glogau and Torgau that would intersect lines of communication connecting the Elbe, the Oder, and Berlin. Thus the defence system would be completed as planned in 1815. Müffling’s studies of the particular theatres of war led him to conclude that Prussia’s southern border was the most threatened. His envisaged solution to this problem was a clear continuation of what had been practiced in the years 1815–1819. The basis of the country’s defence system was its terrain and the network of fortresses adapted to it. In sharp contrast to the bold ideas he expressed in his historical works, the Chief of the General Staff of the Army perceived defensive war as a series of actions determined by geographical factors. Unlike in the previous period, securing the central Kriegstheater was analysed as a separate issue. This is evidenced by numerous extant works on the subject found in ggs memoranda section now at the sbb. In 1819, a report on the importance of Wittenberg was carried out by 2nd Lt Schmidt, an officer attached to the 24th Infantry Regiment.10 The text was reanalysed and supplemented with comments in June 1828. In reference to the strategic location of a fortress, the author of the report notes that the area on the middle Elbe, from the border with Bohemia to Magdeburg, formed the Prussian monarchy’s southern front as well as the first line of defence and operation base against southern Germany and the Middle Rhine. As long as Prussia had no fortified point in the catchment area of the Unstrut and the Saale, as well as from the upper Saale to the Black Elster, there would be no possibility of stopping an enemy column advancing along the Main valley through the eastern part of the Thuringian Forest towards the Elbe. The isolated fortress in Erfurt would be unable to protect the area stretching from the Harz Mountains, the Ore Mountains to the Saale Valley. The middle Elbe, therefore, was the shortest line of operation to the centre of the Hohenzollern monarchy, and at the same time it was vital because of its connections with Silesia, the lower Oder region, and 10

sbb pk, pdk, xliii Wittenberg, No. 82, 2nd Lt Schmidt, Besichtigung und Beurtheilung der Festung Wittenberg, s.l., 1819, s.p.

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the province located further east. The importance of this region to Prussia was emphasised by battles of the preceding century, as an essential battlefield for the whole of Germany and Europe. The long bend of the middle Elbe was, according to Schmidt, convenient for both offensive and defensive operations, because all troop movements in this region could be flanked from the left side, and, in connection with Magdeburg, the upper Saale, and the Ore Mountains, created the possibility of total encirclement. Wittenberg was situated at the virtual tip of this bend, between Torgau and Magdeburg, and closest to Berlin. It connected both main roads leading to the Rhine and the Main, via Frankfurt and Eisenach, and via Nuremberg and Bamberg to north-eastern Germany and Berlin. Although the shortest road to Berlin ran through Torgau, Wittenberg was of key importance to the strategic system. It was also a convenient location with regard to Saxony and Austria, for all operations from Dresden and Bohemia, in the Wittenberg- Küstrin-Glogau triangle, would be flanked by Torgau and Wittenberg. In connection with the swampy defence line on the Black Elster and the conveniently positioned and easy to fortify Senftenberg, it created the possibility to secure the rear of the Elbe line. Hence, Wittenberg was on the middle Elbe more important than Magdeburg, creating the real Hauptstützpunkt for the Prussian right flank and the main bulwark of the central Kriegstheater against Berlin or the lower Oder. Its importance could be compared with the significance of Küstrin, which on the Oder played an analogous role against a possible offensive from Warsaw advancing towards the Oder Valley and the heart of Kingdom of Prussia. Therefore, according to Schmidt, this was a strategically essential point for the survival of the state. Considerably less was devoted to strategic issues by 2nd Lt Ferdinand von Kusserow, an officer of the 40th Infantry Regiment attached to the General Staff of the iv Army Corps, in his 1821 study concerning Torgau.11 In his opinion, this was a point that together with Magdeburg and Wittenberg formed a Prussian operation base facing the east and west, and in connection with Erfurt and Schweidnitz facing the south. Its role as a storehouse suggested the possibility of building a fortified camp nearby, which would increase the firing range of enemy guns. This proposal might have been inspired by the concepts of Joseph Rogniat. The terrain around Torgau was convenient for defence, not as fertile as the left bank, since it was heavily wooded would force the enemy to divide its forces. This was key because a major road to Berlin ran through this point. Two years’ later, an analysis concerning Magdeburg was carried out by Major Uklansky, who was then

11

sbb pk, pdk, xli Torgau, No. 85, Kusserow, Beschreibung der Festung Torgau, Merseburg, January 1821, s.p.

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in charge of the central Kriegstheater.12 In Uklansky’s opinion, the city was not only a major place-of-arms in the Kingdom of Prussia, but now a border fortress. Its advantage was its situation on both sides of the Elbe and the possibility to control river traffic from Hamburg to Berlin. Magdeburg was also a major junction for roads leading to the most important cities in the German Confederation. The area around the fortress was very fertile. These factors made Magdeburg the central point in the Prussian defence system of Saxony and Neumark. An enemy advancing from the west, without an overwhelming superiority, would not be able to cross the Elbe without imperilling its lines of communication as long as there were sufficient Prussian forces in or near Magdeburg. All the attributes of the area around Magdeburg destined it to be a rallying point for Prussian forces. If war operations faltered on the Elbe line, the army holding Magdeburg, Wittenberg, and Torgau would have the advantage. This was because it would be able to safely cross the river and threaten all of the invader’s offensives. With regard to an offensive from the west, Magdeburg was most important, controlling all enemy movements on the left bank of the Elbe. The other two fortresses would be no less important in event of an enemy offensive on Berlin from the east. Communication between Magdeburg and Wittenberg was much easier on the right bank than on the left bank of the Elbe. For this reason, Uklansky called Magdeburg ‘the shield of the heart of the Prussian state’. The most detailed studies of the central Kriegstheater concern Erfurt. Already in 1821, staff officer Major Philipp von Reichenbach of the 8th Division at Erfurt presented to the chief of General Staff of the iv Army Corps, Major Brandenstein, the possibilities of building a fortified camp near the city. Erfurt was exceptionally well-suited for receiving large units of troops if the situation required it.13 It seemed appropriate to study the possibilities of building a fortified camp, selecting a potential battleground, and various positions around the fortress. The first plans to build two fortified camps of 20–30,000 troops to the east and west of Erfurt were presented by Reichenbach in July 1821.14 They were to be located near Salmonsborn, Gelgen, and Ringelberge. The considerations were primarily of a tactical and technical nature, though they did contain some practical analysis of the strategic significance of the terrain. Reichenbach’s second memorandum was somewhat more elaborated,15 in which he 12 13 14 15

sbb pk, pdk, xxii Magdeburg, No. 74, Major Uklansky, Beschreibung der Festung Magdeburg, Magdeburg, 14th June 1823, s.p. sbb pk, pdk, x Erfurt, No. 76, Brandenstein to Müffling, Erfurt, 7th February 1822, s.p. Ibid., Major Reichenbach, Verschanztes Lager bei Erfurt, Erfurt, 1st July 1821, s.p. Ibid., Major Reichenbach, Entwurf zu einem verschanzten Lager bei Erfurt (hierbei ein Plan), Erfurt, 22nd November 1821, s.p.

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stated that the surroundings of Erfurt were more suitable for taking up positions to fight a pitched battle or flank the enemy rather than for the setting up of a fortified camp. The author feared that for each of the potential spots for the setting up of a fortified camp, the distance from the fortress posed the threat of isolating the camp. Therefore, he suggested that a camp should be maintained with minimum effort and surrounded by prepared battlefields. This was a fairly radical attempt to make preparations for multiple possible war situations. That accounts perhaps for the author’s conviction that the camp should be built as a fort according to Rogniat’s guidelines, an interesting declaration to come from a Prussian officer during that period. Another document regarding Erfurt was written by 2nd Lt Vilm, an adjutant of the 31st Infantry Regiment.16 He described it as a border fortress to the German south and a first rank fortress in relation to the Prussian Kingdom’s eastern provinces. This was due to its favourable position in the Gera Valley, whose river made an advancing enemy to divide its forces. The region’s communication routes naturally ran through Erfurt, which could serve independently or in connection with other places as a Waffenplatz and starting point for Prussian army operations. Erfurt could always play a defensive role in relation to each of the three theatres of war in the event of military actions in the middle Elbe region. Its usefulness for offensives would be primarily in the case of an enemy attack from the west towards the upper Elbe. In cooperation with the region’s other fortified points, however, Erfurt could play a role in offensives towards the southwest (with Minden), the south (with Torgau), and the west (with Magdeburg, also in the event of Minden and Westphalia being cut off). In each ­variant, the fortress had to be ready to support efforts to threaten the enemy’s flanks and rear, as well as to ensure a safe withdrawal of one’s own forces. Vilm stated that in each correlation, Erfurt would form an operational base for the Prussian forces. At the same time, he dismissed what he termed ‘Bülowianismus’,17 which might indicate a stigma associated with the conceptual grid that A.H.D von Bülow introduced to Prussian military thought.18 In the event of a failed Prussian offensive in a southwestern direction, Erfurt would lie on the line of retreat to the middle and upper Elbe. Failure in the south would result in a retreat to the middle Rhine. Erfurt would probably not, however, be considered in the event of a defeat in the west. Such a conflict should rather be waged in an alliance with Austria, depending on whether the 16 17 18

sbb, pdk, x Erfurt, No.78, 2nd Lt Vilm, Bericht über die Festung Erfurt, Erfurt, 2nd August 1821, s.p. About Bülow self-opinion on that case see Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie, 240. Ibid., 281–289, 363–376.

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troops would be withdrawn to the middle Elbe or to Bohemia. Vilm also considered the possibility of a defensive against an enemy attacking from the east. This would probably be fought in alliance with southern German states, and, as a nodal point, Erfurt would ensure the possibility of withdrawing troops towards Westphalia and Rhineland. In the event of war in Prussian Saxony, the nature of this part of the kingdom would make Erfurt a suitable base for launching attacks. The fortress could cover the right flank of an enemy column advancing from the west towards the lower Elbe, and also support a Volkskrieg in the Harz region. Generally, the fortress would be useful as a central point of resistance against an enemy advancing from any direction towards the middle Elbe. Offensives from the west would be paralysed in the Harz and the Thuringian Forest; from the south they could be blocked by resistance in the Thuringian and Franconian Forests and along the Saale, and from the east resistance could be on the Saale and in the Franconian Forest. Together with Torgau the fortress could enable the occupation of the Kingdom of Saxony, and secure the resources of Leipzig and prevent the enemy from navigating the Saale. Vilm also considered the offensive advantages of Erfurt. Together with Torgau and a simultaneous declaration of war, it could facilitate the swift mustering of forces to launch a surprise attack on the Kingdom of Saxony, South Germany, or Bohemia. Likewise, it could be combined with Magdeburg and could be used in a northern offensive, marching in two columns and supported by forces from the Rhineland and Westphalia against the Kingdom of Hanover. Similar to Reichenbach, Vilm believed that Erfurt provided a good battle position on the left bank of the Gera. The fortress also had a considerable influence on the defence of the border with the Kingdom of Saxony. As long as Erfurt and Torgau remained in Prussian hands and partisans were active in the Thuringian and Franconian forests and along the Saale, the enemy would not be able to cross their line for fear of being attacked from the rear. Control of Erfurt, even in with the loss of Rhineland and Westphalia, would paralyse enemy movement in all directions. It would, however, be of indirect significance in the event of operations on the eastern side of the Elbe, in Neumark, and Lower Silesia. In the event of a war against Austria and the southern German states, Erfurt would secure Prussian Saxony against enemy occupation. This made feasible the idea of an enemy advancing on Berlin being counterattacked by Prussian forces supported by Erfurt, Wittenberg, and Torgau. This was a key element in the defence system of the central theatre of war, directed against Austria. In this context, the Saxon army was never viewed as a solitary force. Likewise, a force attacking from the east would not be able to cross the lower Elbe without first capturing Erfurt and Magdeburg. In the event of a heavy ­defeat and the Prussian side losing control of the right bank of the Elbe, the

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e­ nemy would most probably lay siege to Wittenberg and Torgau. At that time, Magdeburg and Erfurt could form the bases for the concentration of troops from the western part of the kingdom and thus attempt to relieve the besieged fortresses. In the event of Magdeburg being besieged, Erfurt could perform a similar role, together with Minden. On the same basis, the system of fortresses in the central Kriegstheater could support a threatened Minden in Westphalia. The significance of Erfurt was not alone in operations involving fortresses on the Rhine. All combinations required an adequate number and quality of troops. Vilm also possessed an extremely detailed description of the tactical and technical aspects of the Erfurt fortress. The same issues were dealt with by authors of subsequent works regarding Erfurt, Major Staff of the ggs and staff officer Capt. Trzebiatovsky of the 8th Division in Torgau.19 Analysis of extant registers shows that for the period discussed a ­general description of Neumark (Lt Grawert, 1823)20 was prepared, as well as a d­ escription of the fortifications of towns in the regions of Erfurt, Magdeburg, and Merseburg (Lt Olberg, 1828)21, reconnaissance of roads and positions of areas of Berlin-Frankfurt (Oder), Berlin-Küstrin, Frankfurt-Fürstenwalde-Berlin, Mesenritz-Frankfurt (Oder, Capt. Stillfried, 1821), Berlin-­ WesterhausenLübben-Spremberg (Lt Panzer, 1824), positions along Berlin–Lübben–­ Hoyerswerda–Elsterwerda–Luckau–Berlin (Rittmeister Schenkendorf, 1825), roads from Berlin-Hamburg to border with Mecklenburg (2nd Lt Monts 1825), reconnaissance of roads in Brandenburg (Rittmeister Huttel, 1825), KüstrinMark Friedland (2nd Lt Cler, 1826), Treuenbietzen-Elsterwelda (Lt Cler; 1827), ­Berlin-Lieberose-Niesky, Niesky-Görlitz, Niesky-Senftenberg-Belgern, BelgernEilenburg (Maj. Wilhelm von Felden and Lt Olberg, 1827), Berlin-Fürstenwalde, Muhlrose-Guben-Muskau, Niesky-Kalau-Herzberg (Capt. Kleist and 2nd Lt Monts, 1827), Potsdam-Wittenberg-Delitsch to border with Saxony (1828); Berlin-Küstrin (2nd Lt Monts, 1828), and Küstrin-Schwerin (2nd Lt Monts, 1828).22 Despite missing sources, the memoranda confirm that while perceptions of the threat to the southern border of the Kingdom of Prussia had radically changed, there was no corresponding modification in the Prussian defence system. The basic idea was one of mobile defence based on the lines of rivers, the existing system of fortresses, and planned fortified camps. Officers analysing the positions of individual fortifications focused primarily on the matter of threatening 19

sbb, pdk, x Erfurt, No. 79, Major Staff, Uebersichtliche Beschreibung der Festung Erfurt, s.l., 1821–1824, s.p.; ibid., No. 77, Capt. Trzebiatovsky, Vertheidigung der Stadt und Forts von Erfurt, s.l., 1825 [?], s.p. 20 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 61v. 21 Ibid., 72v. 22 Ibid., 83v–84.

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the enemy’s rear and flanks. It was characteristic of Prussian military thought to emphasise the offensive function of fortresses as a starting point for military operations. Despite the resignation of Boyen, the treatment of fortresses as the base for the concentration of provincial forces weas inevitable, as coordinating points for partisan operations, and the waging of the ‘small war’. In this sense, the principles of a defence system had not significantly changed. The question was how to base an operation plan on the assumptions. Some insight into the matter is provided by the analyses of tasks assigned to General Staff officers by Müffling in December 1827.23 Regardless of whether they were training exercises or a reaction to a potential threat, they provide a sketch of Müffling’s defence plan. They also provide an insight into how his plan was perceived by subordinates, as well as by Clausewitz from beyond the institution. An examination of how the strategic situation was perceived with regard to the case of a war against an Austrian-Saxon alliance allows for broader conclusions. The first task assigned by Müffling concerned five questions: the possible operations of Austria and her ally, calculating the time and space of these operations, determining the threat of each operation to Prussia, the general position of Prussia’s possibilities of action and the calculation of time and territory in particular cases, and the indication of potential threats.24 The enemy was to concentrate in Bohemia and Moravia. Prussia was to mobilise the forces of the ii, iii, iv, vi Army Corps as well as the 9th Division of v Army Corps stationed in Glogau. The fortresses in Erfurt, Magdeburg, Wittenberg, Torgau, Küstrin, Glogau, Schweidnitz, Silberberg, Neisse, and Cosel should be supplied to remain operational for three months. The task assumed that on the 1st of June news would arrive that the Austrian army had set out from the Danube towards Bohemia and Moravia. After reaching their destination, 130,000 Habsburg and 20,000 Saxon troops were to begin an offensive. Five Prussian corps of 150,000 troops in total were to be mobilised, and a division as well as Landwehr were to man the fortresses.25 The task included no information regarding the enemy’s potential goals, the state of enemy troops, or the attitude of the enemy commander. Müffling’s task was similar to the one prepared by Brandt. He, however, had assumed that around 90,000 Austrian soldiers would concentrate in Bohemia and 23,000 on the Danube, and this would be the total number of troops they could devote to a 36-day deployment. A Saxon army of 23

24 25

Rothfels, ‘Zwei strategische’, 159–178; ‘Zwei Briefe’; ‘Gedanken zur Abwehr 22. Dezember und 24. Dezember 1827’, Clausewitz, Verstreute, 493–531; Clausewitz, Two Letters; W.P. Franz, ‘Two letters on strategy: Clausewitz’s contribution to the operational level of war’, Clausewitz and Modern Strategy, ed. M.I. Handel (London, 1986), 176–193. ‘Zwei Briefe’, 4–5. Ibid., 4–5.

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15,000 troops could join the Austrians. The first objective on the Prussian side was to retain Berlin, associated with which was the revitalisation of fortresses in Silesia, Erfurt, and on the Elbe. Four corps could be put into action immediately, and the fifth could arrive no earlier than on the fourth week. Brandt’s task was to define the positions of these troops from the first to the 36th day of the war, assuming that each would need to concentrate their forces in their districts on the 30th day.26 The task shows a continuity with Müffling’s thoughts regarding the southern border. It also shows that the southern border was of particular concern in the years 1827–1828, which probably reflected a genuine worsening of relations between Prussia and Austria. An officer denoted as M considered possible Austrian attacks via Silesia, via the shortest route to Berlin between the Oder and the Elbe, or along the left bank of the Elbe. He considered the first route to be unlikely, for the Austrians would immediately betray their intentions and lose control of Saxony as well as probably part of Bohemia. The second option seemed the most advantageous, because the Prussians, who attached the greatest importance to defending Berlin, would be put in an unfavourable position. The third option was unthinkable because the Austrians had no operational target below Torgau.27 The author presented precise calculations of the time it would take the Austrians to reach the Prussian border in each case. The most dangerous route was where the Elbe flowed through Wittenberg on a direct route to Berlin. The Torgau fortress was 15 miles from where the Elbe intersected the Saxon-Bohemian border and exactly 15 miles from Berlin. The Austrians could deliver siege engines up to Torgau by boat, a major advantage.28 The Austrian corps would be able to advance up both sides of the Elbe, which the current Prussian defence system could not prevent. Consequently, the Prussian army would have to take up positions near Torgau and could not move too close to the Saxon border, so as not to lose their freedom of movement.29 The author believed that the Prussian corps should take up the following positions: the iv Army Corps in Eilenburg, iii Army Corps in Torgau, ii Army Corps in Herzberg, half of v Army Corps in Schlieben, half of vi Army Corps in Doberlug-Kirchhain, and the Guards Corps in Zossen. The other half of v Army Corps was to man the Silesian fortresses and concentrate on the Neisse line. If the Austrians attacked Silesia, the right flank of the Prussian forces would have to occupy Saxony, while its main force should withdraw to the river Bober (Bóbr) and remain there in defensive 26 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 14–15. 27 ‘Der Inhalt der „Lösung M“’, ‘Zwei Briefe’, 16. 28 Ibid., 18. 29 Ibid., 20.

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­ ositions. Once Saxony was occupied, the Prussian army could launch an p ­offensive on Silesia. In the second case, the Prussian forces were to concentrate between Torgau and Herzberg. If the enemy advanced on Berlin, Prussian forces based on the Elbe should attack its rear. In the third case, the Prussians should concentrate on the right bank of the Elbe, with the right flank at Wittenberg and the left flank at Torgau. From this position, the kg could start offensive operations whenever he felt circumstances permitted it. If the enemy was to advance up both sides of the Elbe, the best point for the Prussian troops to concentrate was Herzberg. Taking advantage of the division of enemy troops, the Prussians should attack Austrian forces on the more dangerous right bank. If the enemy joined its forces on the right bank, the Prussians should use Wittenberg and Torgau, as well as the Elbe and Elster, to launch battles in advantageous circumstances.30 In conclusion, M stated that, in his opinion, the loss of Berlin would not have any influence on the outcome of the war. On the other hand, it would be a mistake to abandon advantageous positions on the Elbe to protect Berlin. The position designated for the defence of Berlin at Luckau, with the left flank at the Spreewald, would not provide the right flank support. According to M, this would give the initiative to the enemy, who could control Prussian manoeuvres and even force them into a pitched battle. In order to avoid this, the Prussians should withdraw behind the rivers Nuthe and Notte and accept that they would be pushed to the defensive, with the risk of being blocked and unable to receive support from a besieged Torgau.31 Abandoning the Elbe line would leave the Prussians with no favourable defensive positions, whereas if the line was maintained the Austrians would only be able to seek success through a pitched battle.32 The above considerations clearly correspond to the views expressed in Müffling’s memorandum. M was also of the opinion that the area between Torgau and the Silesian border was practically indefensible. Therefore, the enemy would be free to advance on Berlin, as there were no suitable positions to hold them back. Hence, defence in this theatre of war should be based on attempts to outmanoeuvre the enemy and take up suitable flanking positions in fortresses along the Elbe line. The view resembles the concepts of Boyen, all the more so because the author clearly felt that a battle should be the last resort, and suggested that the Austrians were also more interested in manoeuvres than in major battles. A somewhat different approach was taken by Carl von Röder, the chief of the central theatre of war section. He believed that an Austrian attack could 30 31 32

Ibid., 24. Ibid., 26. Ibid., 30.

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take the route along the right bank of the Elbe through Rumburg (Rumburk) and Zittau via Lusatia to Berlin, over the Ore Mountains along the left bank of the Elbe to Saxony, or a direct attack on Silesia. The Saxons would most probably concentrate near Dresden, where in the event of a Prussian offensive they could withdraw into or beyond the Ore Mountains. Röder believed that a fortified camp should be established in Dresden. It would be advantageous for the Austrians to cooperate with the Saxons. The first course of Austrian action would be decisive, as this was the shortest route to Berlin. It advantaged by the lack of a Prussian fortress on the way. The second option had no definite objective. One could assume that the Austrians would only chose it if they wanted to avoid a battle at the start of the campaign and would be satisfied with only taking Saxony and the left bank of the Elbe, as well as laying siege to Erfurt. In the third option, the Austrians would have to lay siege to the Silesian fortresses and protect its besieging forces. The Prussians would then be forced to relieve the besieged fortresses and seek to engage the Austrians in battle. However, even if the Austrians won such a battle, the victory would not provide them the same benefits as in the first option. After presenting his estimations, Röder stated that he considered the first scenario to be the most probable. He did not consider a situation in which Prussian troops stationed near the border would enter Saxony and occupy the Ore Mountains before the Austrians did, as this was not necessarily the action an invading Austrian army would take. Röder’s proposal assumed that the main Prussian forces (the Guard Corps and ii and iii Army Corps) would be positioned on the Hoyerswerda-Senftenberg-­ Spremberg-Kalau line. The ii Army Corps, and especially its Landwehr should arrive somewhat later. The iv Army Corps was to concentrate on the Black Elster, between Elsterwerda and Mückenberg. Another corps, comprising Glogau and Wrocław divisions, was to be stationed in Görlitz. Half of a division, chiefly regular troops from the 12th Division in Neisse, were to concentrate in Landeshut (Kamienna Góra), and its Landwehr was to man the fortresses in Silesia. In the first and worst variant, the Prussian commander should wait for the enemy to cross Bohemia-Saxon on the evening of the 18th day after commencing its march. When this happens, the following orders should be issued: (1) The division in Hoyerswerda should send a strong cavalry reconnaissance unit towards Bautzen and take up positions on the road halfway there. The troops should not engage in a battle, but when under enemy pressure they should withdraw to Hoyerswerda; (2) Reconnaissance units should be sent out from Senftenberg, Mückenberg, and Elsterwerda; (3) The Senftenberg Division should withdraw to Hoyerswerda; (4) The iv Army Corps would withdraw from the area between Elsterwerda and Mückenberg to the area between Senftenberg and Mückenberg, however, with the river crossing at Elsterwerda maintained; (5)

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Line troops of the ii Army Corps should assemble at Luckau and march on to Altdöbern to join the Guards Corps; (6) The Görlitz corps was to attack weaker enemy units, avoid engaging stronger enemy units, and maintain an open road for a retreat to Silesia. If the Austrians launched an offensive on Berlin, the Prussians should counter them directly with three and a half corps (G., iii, iv and some of the line infantry of ii Army Corps), with the Görlitz corps acting on the enemy’s flank. The nature of the terrain would determine where the main forces should engage in battle, though the possibility of the ii Army Corps Landwehr joining the main force should be taken into account. Depending on this factor, the forces should withdraw beyond the Nuthe and Notte or engage in battle at Luckau. If the Austrians chose the second option, they would probably cross the Elbe in Dresden. In this case, the main Prussian forces should confront them on the Black Elster, and the Görlitz corps should confront its right flank. If despite this the enemy managed to cross to the left bank of the Elbe, the iv Army Corps should take a stand at Torgau, and the rest of the forces should withdraw to behind the Torgau-Herzberg line, and the Görlitz corps should move to Elsterwerda. If the enemy crossed the Elbe again, it should be attacked. If not done the Prussians should follow the enemy’s movements on the right bank until the arrival of the ii Army Corps’ Landwehr, acquiring its offensive ability.33 In the case of an Austrian assault on Landeshut via Trautenau (Trutnov), they would probably take the Katzbach line to protect the sieges. Then half of the 12th Division stationed at Landeshut should withdraw to Schweidnitz to hinder enemy movement, manoeuvre between the fortresses in an attempt to reinforce them. The Görlitz corps was to position itself opposite the enemy between the Bober and the Katzbach and await the arrival of the main forces. However, in the event of an enemy auxiliary column advancing via Zittau, the corps or part of it were to remain in their original positions. An enemy attack between the Oder and the Bober was not expected, but dangerous in face of a possible threat to the left flank. Circumstances were to decide whether or not to engage the enemy before the arrival of the ii Army Corps’ Landwehr.34 Röder’s approach was decidedly more aggressive than that of the first officer. The chief of the central Kriegstheater section evidently considered pre-empting Austrian aggression with a Prussian offensive, though this option went beyond the set task. He too considered Berlin to be the main target of Austrian actions. Unlike M, he did not believe the Prussians should avoid clashing with the enemy, but instead recommended selecting positions that would force the enemy to fight in unfavourable ­circumstances. Regardless of 33 34

‘Die Lösung Röders’, ibid., 34, 36, 38. Ibid., 40–42.

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the course of action the Austrians chose to take, he opted for Prussian actions that would in a short space of time lead to an open battle; the only legitimate reason for delaying it was to wait for the arrival of the ii Army Corps’ Landwehr reinforcements. The second task35 involved choosing between two alternatives for the deployment of five Prussian corps in defence against an Austrian offensive advancing between the Elbe and the Spree. The first assumed deploying four corps at Senftenberg and Spremberg and one at Görlitz; the second assumed deploying all the forces on the Elbe below Torgau, with one corps on the left bank, one at Torgau, and three between the Elbe and the Black Elster.36 Only Röder’s solution is known. He believed that in the first option, the Austrians would have to send one and half of a corps against the Prussian corps in Görlitz to protect their rear, which would be especially important in the event of a defeat. Defeating the Görlitz corps would probably not be possible because it would withdraw against overwhelming enemy forces, but leaving the Austrians with just three and a half of their own corps. An attempt to by pass the left flank of the Prussian forces via the Neisse and the Spree was out of the question. By circumventing the Prussian right flank the Austrians would find themselves between Elsterwerda and Senftenberg on the Black Elster, which would give the Prussian forces favourable circumstances to attack. The opposing forces would most probably clash between Senftenberg and Spremberg.37 In the event of a defeat in the battle, the Prussians would probably have to retreat towards Berlin. It would be easy to find suitable defensive positions on the surrounding hills. However, if the Prussians were not strong enough to engage in another battle, they should retreat to beyond the Havel. If the enemy laid siege to Torgau and the Prussians received reinforcements, then they could start an offensive with numerical superiority. The second option, with the Austrians marching on the left bank of the Elbe, was unrealistic. If they went onto the right bank of the Black Elster, they would lose communications with their operations base. It was therefore most probable that they would march between the Elbe and the Black Elster. In this situation, the Prussians could either concentrate between the two rivers or at the Torgau bridgehead. They could also move to the left bank of the Elbe and take up a position at Torgau. The Austrians would then most probably attack the bridges at Mühlberg in order to be 35 36

‘Zwei Briefe’, 44. Wallace P. Franz believes that the situation described in the task closely resembles the French army positions in Saxony during the 1813 campaign, which was well known to Prussian officers. That could well be the reason why this was indeed only an exercise; Franz, ‘Two letters’, 182–183. 37 ‘Röders Lösung der zweiten Aufgabe’, ‘Zwei Briefe’, 46.

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able to get to the left bank of the Elbe, but the Prussians would retain the ­freedom to decide whether to start a battle or avoid one. In every case, they would be able to cross over to the right bank of the Elbe and withdraw to Wittenberg. Whatever option the Austrians selected, they would need to fight a battle before they could lay a siege to Torgau. Victory in either case would bring similar benefits to the Prussians. If they lost a battle between Senftenberg and Spremberg, they would have to retreat to Berlin, and therefore move further away from Torgau. The advantage of this situation was that the Prussians would retain their connections with the rest of the country and the possibility of acquiring reinforcements. It would be beneficial to deploy the Görlitz corps to threaten the enemy’s flank. It would, however, require command by a clever general, otherwise it would be safer to disperse the troops.38 In both cases, the terrain should be thoroughly surveyed before the battle, especially around the fortresses of Torgau and Wittenberg so as to find positons within range of their guns.39 If Görlitz were a fortress, its position would be advantageous. It could be used to flank Austrian offensives while maintaining contact with the rest of the country and having the possibility of withdrawing to Silesia. According to Röder, the Elbe line with tis fortresses did not offer the same advantages. Another important factor in the selection of positions was the possibility of receiving reinforcements from the vii, viii and i Army Corps.40 Röder, therefore, consistently opted for positions on the right bank of the Elbe, supported by Torgau and the Black Elster. The key consideration for him in both options was the ability to manoeuvre on both sides of the river, providing flexibility in responding to Austrian actions. The purpose of the operation he planned was to fight the battle in the most favourable circumstances. On the other hand, the importance Röder attached to the flanking position of Görlitz is quite incomprehensible, for its actual impact would have been minimal. That was indeed the opinion of Müffling, for whom the possibilities of cooperation between the forces in Torgau and Görlitz were out of the question. Assessing the considerations of the two officers, the ideas of M seem far closer to the 1815–1819 approach. The Prussians were to manoeuvre and use the fortresses on the Elbe lien to put the enemy in a disadvantageous position. M did not even consider the possibilities of an offensive. Likewise, he regarded the fighting of a battle a last resort. Röder’s proposed actions were bolder. He was determined to fight a battle with the Austrians, but on conditions determined by the Prussian side. The positions he planned were supposed to mask the real target and force the enemy to engage in battle. However, Röder also seemed attached to the idea of

38 39 40

Ibid., 50. Ibid., 52. Ibid., 54.

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basing operations on fortresses, river crossings, and flanking positions, though in a far more flexible manner than M. The process of shaping gs doctrine had not been completed since the solutions proposed differed from what was assumed of the tasks. They do, however, confirm at least some of Böckmann’s claims concerning the nature of Müffling’s strategic concepts. Indeed, Müffling’s tasks forced his subordinate officers to consider only one type of option, a defensive one. There is a clear theme of avoiding battles and instead manoeuvring and attempting to put the enemy into an unfavourable position. Brandt’s solution to a task Müffling assigning him in 1828 is unknown. The task assumed that around 90,000 Austrian troops would concentrate in Bohemia, and there would be another 23,000 on the Danube, though this would be the maximum number the Austrians could use in the 36 days of their offensive. A Saxon army of 15,000 men could join the Austrians. On the Prussian side, the objective was to hold Berlin and revitalise the fortresses in Silesia, Erfurt, and on the Elbe. Four corps could be put into action, and a fifth corps could join four weeks later at the earliest. Brandt’s task was to determine the position of the corps form the first to the 36th day of the war, assuming that each of them needed a full concentration of their forces in their 30th day. This task confirms Müffling’s consistency of thought regarding the southern border and the fact that in the years 1827–1828 it was an object of special concern, no doubt reflecting genuinely worsening relations between Prussia and Austria. Regardless of whether the Chief of the General Staff of the Army was the author of one of the proposed solutions to the tasks or whether both were the works of his subordinates, one does not find in either text traces of the bold concepts presented in Müffling’s military history books. The system of training gs officers assumed that the entire corps shared the same point of view on matters of strategy. Therefore, irrespective of whether these were training exercises or concepts for concrete plans, the tasks speak volumes about how Müffling’s p ­ erceived the art of war. Particularly important is the testimony of the section chief, Röder, as he was a highly placed and fully educated officer. The sharp contrast between Müffling’s declared views, expressed in historical works, and views his subordinates were expected to hold make doubtful his overly harsh appraisals of chief players in the Napoleonic Wars. Even if we accept that the defensive approach of the General Staff was politically imposed, the cautious operational plans were against an Austrian side that held only a slight numerical superiority, which could be easily overcome through more offensive actions. This appraisal would be incomplete without the critique of the proposed solutions and tasks by Clausewitz, who felt the very idea of both tasks was misguided.41 In his opinion, war was not a separate phenomenon but a direct continuation of politics. Hence, it was politics that modelled a war plan 41

‘Zwei Briefe’, 5–11.

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­(Kriegsplan) and only on this basis could a campaign plan (Feldzugsplan) for war be made. Regardless of how many theatres of war, they were all identically an element of politics. That is why an operational plan should not be limited purely to the military aspects of the conflict. Without knowing the internal situations of opposing sides and their mutual relations, writing an operational plan was pointless. Every attempt to do so was dependent on too many unique circumstances to reflect real situations. Therefore, one should not focus on details but rather on fundamental problems. By referring to Frederick the Great and Napoleon, Clausewitz tried to show that the differences in the way the two men waged war compared with others did not result from differences in the potential of their respective countries, but rather from individual qualities. He insisted that the idea that one could artificially model a war situation (   fingierte Fall) was ridiculous. It was only reasonable to compare similar factors of opposing armies and states, understanding that it was an exercise and could not be applied in a real war. Leaving aside irrelevant factors in the exercise, one always had to bear in mind the political motives behind actions. It was a different situation when the objective was to bring the enemy to its knees, and quite another when the objective was to occupy a part of the enemy’s territory or a fortresses. Clausewitz conceded that the French wars of the revolutionary and imperial periods could lead to the conclusion that the first objective was the norm. However, the history of wars shows that most armed conflicts had limited objectives, as a means to achieve political goals. It would be a mistake and a waste to use all available resources for each war. According to Clausewitz, discussions about strategy had ignored this actuality, the result of which were one-dimensional calculations of time and place focused on a random objective, such as a single battle or a siege instead of taking into account the political constellation behind the conflict. Only this element was worthy of consideration; that mass of other details was usually perceived by a genius commander at a single glance. Clausewitz felt that the task was incomplete. Without knowing the objectives of the Austrian actions, it was impossible to determine whether the army was intending to make Prussia defenceless or attempting to achieve a more limited goal. During the Seven Years’ War, the Austrians had the first objective in mind, but made a mistake by directing their operation against Silesia, instead of Saxony and Lusatia on the way to Berlin. However, if we assumed that their objective was not the disabling of Prussia, then capturing Berlin would not be the optimal solution or the greatest threat to Prussia. If they had only enough forces to occupy a certain area and several fortresses, this would be equally to the disadvantage Prussia. Hence, both the task and the solution were a sort of strategic Raisonnements quite divorced from reality. Only a knowledge of the aims and resources of the opposing side could ­identify

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actions that would pose the greatest threat to Prussia. Clausewitz’s opinion that to take Berlin was a risky operation and quite unreasonable. For him, attack and defence were interchangeable, reciprocal phenomena. It was necessary to choose one or the other as a starting point. According to Clausewitz, a campaign should begin with defence, because military decrees issued in peacetime usually concerned the preparation for defence in precedence to offensive operations. Rules should be adopted from general conditions, although modified by the enemy’s actions. Clausewitz believed that although by an analysis of the directions of marches, the positions of storehouses, and the mobilisation of supply trains one could determine whether the Austrians were planning to attack Silesia or Lusatia, key decisions, e.g., which side of the Elbe to operate on, would be made at the very last moment. He felt the best deployment of Prussian troops would be: three Silesian divisions in Neisse, Liegnitz (Legnica), and Sprottau (Szprotawa), the ii, iii and Guards Army Corps in Lower Lusatia, and the iv Army Corps at Torgau, on the right bank of the Elbe. Such a deployment would allow Prussia to flexibly respond to enemy’s actions. All attempts at speculation need give way to the reality of war.42 Clausewitz subjected the proposals of M to a thorough criticism. He rejected the assumption that the Austrians would betray their intentions by swiftly invading Silesia. The fact that the Silesian border was further from Berlin meant that this would not determine the intended line of operation. If the Austrians set out from Vienna and the Danube, there would be no time to delay, because appropriate positions would have to be taken up before the enemy crossed the Prussian border. Taking the initiative is inextricably linked with the element of surprise. Here, the Austrians had a choice, they could attempt a surprise attack on Berlin via Saxony. On the other hand, they could attack the Prussians earlier in Silesia than in Brandenburg.43 Clausewitz did not believe that protecting Berlin would be a mistake and failed to understand it as an unfavourable defensive position. With a strong position between the Nuthe and the Notte, two fortresses (Torgau and Wittenberg) on the enemy’s left flank and the whole province of Silesia on the right flank, he could see no defensive disadvantages. This of course did not mean that the capital should be used as a base. Clausewitz had doubts as to the usefulness of calculating the distances between Vienna, Berlin, and the border. They could possibly be indicators as to 42

43

In this excerpt, Franz saw a foretelling of the factors determining strategic success enumerated in Vom Kriege, including the advantages of terrain, the element of surprise, concentric attacks, strengthening the theatre of operations with fortresses, etc., local population support, and the effects of morale; Franz, ‘Two letters’, 183. ‘Clausewitz Stellungnahme zur „Lösung M“’, ‘Zwei Briefe’, 13.

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how far one should advance one’s forces, but in principle they were of little relevance. Much more important would be the positon of Torgau in relation to the Elbe line, but if Berlin was indeed at the centre of the Prussian defence system, its distance from Vienna would be of no significance.44 Clausewitz did not understand why the siege of Torgau would create a threat to the whole Prussian state. Everything depended on the situation. If the city was not surrounded by overwhelming enemy forces, the siege could provide the Prussians an opportunity to achieve strategic success.45 The control of Dresden would grant the Austrians freedom to operate on both sides of the Elbe. This was a consequence of the Prussian defence system. If the author’s sole intention was to conduct a defensive war, then his instructions were wrong. Clausewitz rejected the assumption that the Austrians had to march in two columns. Moreover, he was uncertain whether the Austrians marching from Eger or the Prussians marching from the Elster would be the first to reach Dresden. Only the first actions of the opposing armies would reveal their intentions. The assumption that the Prussians had to concentrate in the vicinity of Torgau was for Clausewitz deprived of logic. He simply did not understand why the Prussians could not take up more forward positions to protect Torgau. As a complete aberration he considered the idea of defending the city with the entire Prussian army – for him, the significance of fortresses was their ability to tie down enemy forces. Defending a fortress with the army would only make any sense if there were no alternatives. Clausewitz thought that the Prussians should hold positions further to the south, between Torgau and Herzberg to ensure greater possibilities of movement. What made that position strong were three fortresses and the Elbe, as well as the fact that it lay parallel to the enemy lines of operation against Silesia. These facts did not require complex calculations, they were based on a common sense appraisal of the situation.46 On the basis of available information, Clausewitz was unable to commit to whether a flanking position with the army’s back to the Elbe was more beneficial than other options. It would, nonetheless, be strategic for the Prussian side to have the freedom to operate in three directions, towards the Elbe, Berlin, or Silesia, and threaten the enemy’s rear and both flanks. However, the Prussian army would have a clearly defined retreat. The position would not be appropriate for protecting Berlin, though Clausewitz did not see the point in such action. Holding a position behind a river would be tactically unassailable (taktische unangreifbare), regardless of whether or not there was support from nearby fortresses. 44 45 46

Ibid., 15, 17. Ibid., 19. Ibid., 21, 23.

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Thanks to this position, the Prussian army would win the advantage of the battlefield, forcing the enemy to undertake risky circumventing manoeuvres.47 Holding a position with both flanks supported was rare. Hence, disqualifying Luckau was pointless, as many battles had been successfully fought with only one flank supported. The advantages of a position should be seen with regard to place and circumstances, and not abstract terminology. One should not assume that a position was bad if it provided less freedom to manoeuvre – the essence of warfare was the mutual effects on both sides, determining each other’s actions. In Clausewitz’s opinion, M treated the occurrence of a battle as a misfortune, especially if it had to be fought without delay. Clausewitz saw here the ‘tremors’ of the old Generalstabswissenschaft. There was no way of resisting a determined enemy who was unafraid of fighting a battle without finding the most favourable conditions to actually fight a battle. There was no alternative to battles. Napoleon had shown that a good position was one that forced the enemy to circumvent it, and that it was necessary to attack the enemy when it was ‘red-handedly’ (le flagrant délit) trying to carry out the manoeuvre. A tactically defensive battle occurred when the enemy decided that circumvention was too risky and instead attacked the position, and a tactically offensive battle occurred when the enemy was attacked while trying to circumvent the position. Even if the tactical and strategic strength of the position dissuaded the enemy from attacking or circumventing, success without a battle was the willingness of the defenders to fight one. Of course both sides could be unwilling to engage and would manoeuvre until they found a convenient situation to fight the battle, which could never happen. Clausewitz considered this way of conducting defensive operations to be a dangerous waste of time. Austrians manoeuvring near Luckau or Herzberg would suggest that they were looking for a battle. If the Prussians wanted to entice a siege of Torgau, they did not have to cross the Nuthe, it was enough to fall back on the Elster. Even if the enemy decided to ignore Torgau, a swift engagement in battle would be the best solution for the Prussians. Only a genuine threat to Berlin would justify a radical retreat. Although Clausewitz did not share M’s fears in this regard, he did acknowledge that the position behind the Nuthe was difficult and would preclude cooperation with the Torgau fortress. The fault was that it meant abandoning the Elbe line, which made it no longer be possible to harass enemy troops besieging the Prussian fortress and thus increased the chances of it ­being captured. According to Clausewitz, everything was heading towards a major battle. In conclusion to his reflections on this task, Clausewitz emphasised his objection to terminology that created out of specific cases a general 47

Ibid., 25.

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­ rinciple. Strategists used terms like algebraic formulas, which were neither p clear nor correct.48 In assessing Röder’s proposal, Clausewitz agreed that an operation through Lusatia would likely be decisive. This was, however, not an axiom but rather the assumption of the task. Clausewitz’s assessment of Röder’s two other options was positive, as he felt they did not repeat the mistakes of M. The task assumed that the Austrians would have overwhelming superiority at the start of the campaign.49 Clausewitz considered Röder’s calculations to be sound and not contrived as was M’s version, because he included only the essential and most natural factors, and also because he did not attach too much importance to calculations. Here, Clausewitz only had doubts with regard to the time Röder estimated it would take the Austrians to march along the Danube in relation to the arrival of the ii Army Corps’ Landwehr.50 Clausewitz considered the eccentric deployment of Prussian troops always to be a mistake, especially dangerous before a battle, and all the more so in a confined area. Operations on eccentric lines only made sense when the army had a numerical superiority. Even then it still posed the potential threat of the enemy defeating the separated parts of the army as had happened in the 1796 campaign. Such a form of attack or defence was less risky in large areas and virtually safe in vast expanses such as those of the 1812 Russian campaign. Encirclement had always been a factor determining success, albeit a risky one. Jeopardy and success were, however, immanent qualities of war. In order to achieve a success, one had to take increased risk and be psychologically prepared, the only alternative was to have at one’s disposal an overwhelming superiority. This simple statement, according to Clausewitz, solved a number of strategic problems.51 Possessing a province to the rear and flank of the enemy, he felt, was only beneficial to a point. Of course, there was no point in giving up on such an advantage, but having buildings and partisans that would not deplete the main forces, and would not be necessary in the decisive battle, should suffice. For an army of 120,000 troops, 5,000 men would not constitute a major loss, yet combined with the province’s resources, the Landwehr, the manned fortresses, and the Landsturm could pose a serious threat to the enemy flank and lines of operation and thus have an impact on the final outcome. These, however, could not be major detachments, only small forces.52 The idea of manoeuvring divisions 48 49 50 51 52

Ibid., 27, 29, 31, 33. ‘Clausewitz Stellungnahme zur Lösung Röders’, ibid., 35. Ibid., 37. Ibid., 39. Ibid., 41.

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was, in his opinion, not well thought out. In the event of an enemy attack on Silesia, it would be necessary to concentrate forces immediately in that province, without a mobilisation in Lower Lusatia.53 Clausewitz had far more reservations with regard to Röder’s second proposal. His doubts were aroused by Röder’s conviction that the enemy would not be able to easily defeat the Görlitz corps. The form of action proposed in his first proposal, which after Jomini could be called one of concentric lines, was effective only in the case of possessing a large numerical superiority or when the enemy was avoiding a battle. There could also be no certainty that the enemy would direct one and a half corps against the Görlitz corps. Taking into account where the enemy wanted to go, Clausewitz believed half a corps would be sufficient, because the Görlitz corps was not large and even if the Austrians were defeated, they would still be based on the Elbe and have the ability to withdraw via Dresden. Therefore, the Görlitz idea was a mistake, contrary to the principle of the concentration of forces.54 Withdrawal beyond the river Havel should follow a decision based in the western part of the kingdom. Without it, such a retreat would be pointless. The basic question was whether the Austrians intended to fight a pitched battle. According to Clausewitz, not. They were not stronger than the Prussians and were in hostile territory, which in this configuration was disadvantageous. This gave the Austrians little room for manoeuvre, and would hardly include the siege and capture of Torgau in their plan. In seeking to fight a battle, they would have to proceed along the right bank of the Elbe, where Prussian forces were located. It would be advantageous to cross the Elbe before they entered Prussian territory.55 Therefore, the Prussian position between the Elbe and Elster should be to the south of Torgau. This would be essential with a position between major physical obstacles, also affecting the possibility of withdrawal through Torgau. Although this position should be used only as a last resort.56 A position on the Elbe would mean being based in the western part of the kingdom and loss of contact with its eastern part. After some consideration, Clausewitz decided that there was no major difference between a position at Torgau and one on the Elster. Whether the Prussians would be fighting at Torgau or at Senftenberg ultimately made no difference, other than searching for a strategy where one did not exist. On the other hand, deploying all the forces of Görlitz would create a classic flanking position. Clausewitz had serious doubts as to the point of making such a move. 53 54 55 56

Ibid., 43. ‘Clausewitz Stellungnahme zur Röders Lösung der 2. Aufgabe’, ibid., 47, 49. Ibid., 49, 51. Ibid., 51–53.

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Its main fault was that it could lead to being cut off from the main part of the country and therefore the centre of the whole theatre of war. Hence, the position should have tactical advantages that were strong enough to dissuade the enemy from attacking it without major forces. The strategic role of the position, however, was more important. From this point of view, Clausewitz believed that the Görlitz position with a road for retreating to Wrocław created the risk of the corps being pushed back into southern Silesia. Clausewitz imagined that old school strategists would consider the position to be lost. That was not his personal opinion, but he warned Röder to reconsider the pros and cons of the position, whose significance could be less than it seemed if the enemy had its base on the Elbe.57 Clausewitz’s comments clearly show differences between him and the General Staff. War for him was always the product of unique political circumstances, resulting in combinations of actions that were impossible to predict. Hence, the tasks Müffling had set his subordinates was for him a typical case of art for art’s sake, a mental exercise ignoring a number of key factors that in reality would determine victory or defeat. He believed that without knowing reasons for the outbreak of war and the intentions of the opposing sides, it was impossible to foresee the enemy’s actions. Depending on the level of determination, the enemy could be satisfied with occupying a portion of the country’s territory or conversely maximal intentions to destroy the opposing army and capture the capital. The number of variants and combinations was theoretically unlimited and no mental exercise could possibly prepare an officer to face a real war situation. Naturally, it is hard to fully place all of Clausewitz’s arguments.58 The assumed defence stance of Prussia most probably stemmed from the foreign policy of Frederick William iii, and the political context of the years 1827–1828 made it possible to assume the potential of an Austrian invasion. Nevertheless, Clausewitz’s criticism does reveal underlying concepts of Müffling’s methodical art of war. In contrast to the bold theses of his theoretical works, the operation plans created under his direction referred to the cautious strategy of manoeuvres from before the Napoleonic Wars. Although lack of sources prohibits the possibility of drawing broader conclusions, it seems that the actual tasks and Clausewitz’s assessment of them had a significant impact on Müffling’s legacy. It remains an open question as to whether 57 58

Ibid., 55–56. This not the opinion of Franz, who believes that Clausewitz fully understood the concept of three levels of the art of war and used the term ‘strategy’ in the modern sense of the term ‘operation’ (sic). Thus, he created something that was more than a critique of contemporary tasks, but rather an model example of how unique situations should be considered, which was also useful fir soldiers 150 years later; Franz, ‘Two letters’, 193.

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­ lausewitz’s opinions were widely accepted in the Prussian army, but it does C show that few in the army high command shared his point of view.59 Müffling’s 1827 memorandum presented a relatively positive appraisal of the defensive properties of the eastern provinces. Significantly, however, Müffling referred to territories on the Oder and Vistula lines with important fortifications in Posen and Thorn. According to Böckmann, the defence of East Prussia was to be based on isolated Stützpunkte in Königsberg, Pillau, and Osterode, which, in Böckmann’s opinion, meant that Müffling had neglected the significance of the major rivers, which he considered too easy to cross.60 Bremm, who also knew both texts, likewise believed that Müffling’s East Prussian defence plan was based on those three positions.61 It seems in the light of the introduction to his Pro Memoria and works on the central Kriegstheater, accusations of not appreciating the importance of rivers, however, are quite unfounded. On the other hand, certain conclusions regarding his perception of defence in the eastern provinces may be drawn from the works of his gs officers in the years 1820–1829. Among unpreserved works, one may point to descriptions of the area between the Warthe and the Netze (Maj. Karl von Prittwitz, 1820), the Bromberg Regierungsbezirk (Maj. Wulffen, 1822), Silesia (Groeben, 1823), the Regierungsbezirk of Wrocław (Groeben and Trebra, 1819/1820), Liegnitz (1821) and Reichenbach im Eulengebirge (Dzierżoniów – Pinter, 1823), a g­ eneral description of Farther Pomerania (Lt Moliere, 1820), detailed descriptions of Pomerania for the central Kriegstheater (Lt Lange, Lt Schmidt, 1822), as well as description of the hills in Pomerania (Golocher, 1826),62 reconnaissance of an old fortified cities (Maj. Heymann, 1828), descriptions of Frauenburg (Frombork) in Vistula Lagoon (Maj. Fischer, 1824).63 The most attention in this ­theater of war was devoted to the issue of roads and position, including describing the position along the Gnesen (Gniezno)-Königsberg road (Capt. Friedrich Wilhelm von Dankbahr, 1825), Strasburg in Westpreußen (Brodnica)-Graudenz, Osterode-Graudenz, Osterode-Marienwerder (Capt. Dankbahr, 1827), Königsberg-Lyck, Lyck-Schippenbeil (Sępopol)-Königsberg (Capt. Dankbahr, 1828), Strasburg in Westpreußen-Rehden (Radzyń Chełmiński)-Graudenz, OsterodeDeutsch Eylau (Iława)-Bischofsburg-Graudenz, Deutsch Eylau-Marienwerder (1828) Schwerin-Glogau and Kontopp (Konotop)-Neusalz (Nowa Sól, 2nd Lt Monts, 1825), Posen-Bromberg-Fordon-Gnesen-Thorn-Kruschwitz (Col. 59

‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, Mai 1817. – Mit Beilage: „Aufsatz über General Scharnhorst“’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 265–266; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 25. Oktober 1824’, 467. 60 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 122–123. 61 Bremm, Von der Chaussee, 36. 62 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 57v–61. 63 Ibid., 69v–72.

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­ einrich von Diest, 1826), and general reconnaissance of roads in the Grand H Duchy of Posen (1827, Maj. Reichenbach).64 Silesia was treated with special care in this context, which resulted in a reconnaissance of roads between Löwenberg (Lwówek Śląski) and Schmiedeberg (Kowary) to Bohemia (2nd Lt Monts, 1824), the mountain pass through Riesengebirge on the Silesian side (Maj. Cler, 1824), reconnaissance of roads in Silesia (Maj. Wulffen, 1824), reconnaissance of roads Wrocław-Lissa (Leszno), Glogau-Löwenberg-­Goldberg (Złotoryja)-Wrocław (Maj. Wulffen, 1824), descriptions of position on the Wrocław-Schweidnitz road (Capt. Reichenstein, 1825), recognition of roads in Silesia (Capt. Reichenstein, 1826), report about reconnaissance of positons on roads Wrocław-Krotoschin, Krotoschin-Kalisch and Wrocław-Wreschen (Września) roads (Maj. Wulffen 1826), descriptions of positions on GlogauParschnitz-Wrocław road (Capt. Reichenstein, 1826), positions on the NeisseSchwiednitz road (Capt. Reichenstein, 1826), positions on the Wrocław-Strehlen (Strzelin)-Neisse road (Capt. Reichenstein, 1826) and on the Glogau-GoldbergHirschberg (Jelenia Góra) road (Capt. Reichenstein, 1826), reconnaissance of roads in Silesia (Capt. Reichenstein, 1827), reconnaissance of positions on the Wrocław-Glatz road and main roads of the county (Capt. Reichenstein, 1827), reconnaissance of Głogów-Guhren (Górzyn) road (Panker, 1827), Wrocław-Oels (Oleśnica)-Bernstadt (Bierutów)-Kreuzberg road (Maj. Wulffen, 1827), reconnaissance in Grand Duchy of Posen and Silesia (Col. Diest, 1827), descriptions of Glogau-Sagan (Żagań) road (2nd Lt Monts, 1824), report about reconnaissance of positons on Wrocław-­ Striegau-Hirschberg and Landeshut-GlatzNeisse-Wrocław roads (Maj. Reyher, 1825), positons on Landeshut-Glatz road (Maj. Reyher, 1825), and positons on Wrocław-Myslowitz (Mysłowice) road to the border with Free City of Cracow (Maj. Reyher, 1827).65 This theatre of war was, therefore, considered comprehensively yet only fragments of these works have survived. Lt Moliere’s description of Pomerania has survived in the sbb collection.66 In the event of war, its situation would primarily depend on whether Prussia would be allied with a sea power and on whether or not that sea power or the enemy controlled the Baltic. The first scenario would allow for landing troops on the Prussian coast and together with the allies attack the enemy on the Oder line. In the event of large enemy forces concentrating on the Oder, the flanking position of Pomerania could have a decisive impact on the war. In the second scenario, due to the extensive territory, one should expect an ­enemy

64 65 66

Ibid., 79–81v. Ibid., 81v–83. sbb pk, pdk, xxviii Pommern, No. 3, Moliere, Beurtheilung von Pommern, s.p.

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landing to support the main enemy operation advancing from Poland to the heart of the Prussian state. This would most probably lead to the loss of control over the whole region. In such a situation, the theatre of defence operations would depend on Stützpunkte in Gdańsk, Kolberg, and Stettin. Gathering of large numbers of troops would be difficult due to the need to concentrate the main forces on the middle Oder to protect the capital against the advancing enemy. Therefore, it would be necessary to rely primarily on the second recruitment Landwehr, supported by small units of line troops. Actions would be encumbered by a poor road infrastructure. This increased the importance of the region’s fortifications and fortified points, to which Moliere devoted considerable text in his memorandum. Here, he stressed the defence significance of old castles, which had been described by Capt. Leopold von Gerlach in 1817. He attributed a potential role to Neustettin (Szczecinek), which could provide support to a detached corps against an army advancing from the east towards Kolberg and Stettin. Situated in a protrusion facing West Prussia, Neustettin could ensure communication between the fortresses of Thorn, Graudenz, Kolberg, and Stettin. Unfortunately, the Neustettin castle had no adequate fortifications, due to which the enemy need not to worry about obstacles on the Belgard (Białogard) to Kolberg section. The key section for the protection of the province was between Kolberg and Stettin, where the detached corps could count on strong reinforcements, which could make use of the rich land in the Stargard to provide a base for sieges against the main Pomeranian fortresses. An advantage for the adversary was also the ability to support directly and indirectly operations on the middle Oder. Fortunately, Stargard was suitable as a base for manoeuvre warfare, having secured roads to retreat to the main fortresses and the island of Wollin (Wolin). Eastern Pomerania, on the other hand, was only suitable for a ‘small war’, albeit with a population, as the author stressed, that was not fully prepared for an offensive war. Therefore, near the West Prussian border only small units were expected to operate, hindering enemy troops advancing towards Gdańsk and Graudenz. Materiel to arm the local population was to be stored in the castles of Schivelbein, Drakhein, and Bülow to the south. In this analysis, one can find distinct echoes of Boyen’s principles of building a defence system, as well as the conviction of the preceding period that the campaign would be resolved on the middle Oder. A supplement to these considerations is a 1825 study concerning Thorn.67 The author of the work, Dankbahr, stressed that Thorn was the main gate to the eastern provinces of Prussia, allowing control of navigation on the Vistula and guaranteeing free access to both its shores. Regardless of whether Russian 67

sbb pk, pdk, xl Thorn, No. 47, Dankbahr, Die Festung Thorn, s.l., 1825, 1–10.

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operations would be directed against East and West Prussia or through Posen to the heart do the Kingdom of Prussia, Thorn was a Stützpunkt to the flanks, ­ensuring communication between forces in the provinces. The author had no doubts that the enemy would attach to this point great significance. It was especially important to the Poles, for whom its capture would be the start to restoring control of the lower reaches of the Vistula and the ability to transport materiel to lay siege to Graudenz and Gdańsk. The premise was that the siege of Thorn would be the first step of the Polish-Russian forces in a future war, more so on account of the proximity of Modlin and the ease of obtaining from its depot siege equipment. This required preparations to restore the stronghold to combat readiness, perhaps supported by a fortified camp, which would hinder the laying of a siege. The Prussian officer was cognizant of the point of view of some of the Polish military. Prądzyński’s subsequent memorandum, dated on the 26th of April 1816, developed a plan for an offensive against Prussia. The Polish officer was of the opinion that Prussian provocations resulting from a sense of humiliation and fear of Russia would inevitably lead to war. As a result of this prospect he proposed starting a national war planning, modelled on the Prussian military organisation. The objective in the event of a war against Prussia and Austria would be the capture and occupation of the Vistula along its entire course, therefore enabling an invasion of Prussia and Pomerania. The intention of the Prussians would be to defeat the Polish forces on the left bank of the Vistula, and then to start an offensive on the right bank. The predicted grouping of Polish forces was a corps in Służew on the Thorn side, a corps in Kalisch to stop an offensive from Wrocław, and a third corps in Opatowiec to stop the Austrians advancing from Cracow. The main forces would be concentrated around Rawa, Końskie, and Piotrków, depending on the situation on the front. This was, therefore, a complex operational plan that assumed a full-scale war involving all three Partitioning Powers.68 The views of both the Prussian and Polish officers remained basically unchanged throughout the 1820s.69 Müffling’s appraisal of the defence of the eastern borders was not supported by Boyen. This becomes apparent in an analysis of Boyen’s sketch of eastern border fortifications,70 most probably from the 1820s.71 In it, he considers 68

bu kul, ms No. 165, Memoire sur la Pologne. Dans l’Etat ou l’a place le Congres de Vienne faisant suite aux recoinassances des nouvelles frontieres, Warsaw, 26th April 1816, 1–11. 69 In the years 1827–1828, Grand Duke Konstantin was to have considered war against Austria and Prussia, and Prądzyński was involved in the planning; Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 139–140. 70 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 505, Über die Befestigung der östlichen Grenze, nach 1820, s.l., 1–143. 71 This date is also given by Meinecke; Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 455.

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­ roblems concerning operations in East Prussia, local and general problems p concerning the means of defence on the eastern border, fortified points requiring strengthening between the Vistula and the Oder, general principles of the art of fortification, information about particular points, and problerms with the fortification system on the right bank of the Vistula.72 From his point of view, Prussia’s eastern borderland stretched from the Baltic and upper Oder to Prussian territories east of the Vistula and Upper Silesia. The Elbe was important to the whole system, especially in protecting West Pomerania against attacks.73 Boyen divided the Prussian border into three sections: (East) Prussia up to the Vistula, from the Vistula to Silesia, and the eastern border of Silesia.74 As in his years in office, Boyen believed that the borders should be systematically fortified, but this defence system should not substitute for an operational plan that took into account both offensive and defensive actions. Peacetime deployment of troops and the shape of the border demonstrated that the Prussian right flank would be the concentration point (Sammelpunkt) of the main forces. However, all actions against enemy forces had to be supported by a strengthened left flank. Hence, troops in the north would be able to protect the right flank, independently hold out against an enemy attack, and force the enemy to divide its forces. The task of the Oder line in this configuration was to protect the Prussian capital against an enemy advancing from Modlin.75 Building a defence system on the right bank of the Vistula urgently required fortifications in Königsberg, Insterburg, Lötzen, and Osterode.76 The central defence system, in turn, required further fortification of Kruschwitz, Posen, and Adelnau, which would secure connections between the Vistula and the Oder.77 Silesia was a potential operation base against Poland form the Oder line. This, however, required fortification works to restore defensive properties to the west and east. As key points to be considered, Boyen mentioned Groß Wartenberg (Syców), Cosel, and, above all, Wrocław, whose loss would threaten Prussian forces in Upper Silesia and on the lower Oder, including Küstrin. The Silesian capital was the largest point requiring fortification in the whole of Prussia, which was a problem even with large investments.78 The former minister of war stated that the eastern border required not only fortifications, but also the proper deployment of troops. In his opinion, Russia was spending vast sums of 72 GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 505, Über die Befestigung, 6. 73 Ibid., 1–2. 74 Ibid., 6. 75 Ibid., 3–6. 76 Ibid., 46–55. 77 Ibid., 56–62. 78 Ibid., 62–66.

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money on arming itself, much more than other countries on the Continent. At the border, it possessed convenient fortresses in Zamość, Częstochowa, ­Modlin, Babruysk, and Riga as counters to the Prussian fortifications. Prussia, making use of contributions, had set about strengthening its borders immediately after the 1813–1815 wars, but the task was still far from completion. Actions on the eastern border aimed primarily at creating a means for exploiting the region’s resources and physical advantages for defence purposes, a system of fortifications that cooperated with the state economy and was financially supported in all aspects. These considerations are an expansion of views Boyen held during his years in active service. More significant than the actual message of the text is how it compares with the views of Müffling. Although Boyen’s text is distinctly more complex, the two authors share a common core understanding of the defence of Prussian territory. The starting point for all operations were to be specifically prepared bases. Boyen differing from Müffling was of the opinion that the defence system in the eastern part of the kingdom was still under construction and fortresses at Thorn and Posen were in no way sufficient to meet the area’s operational requirements. The two generals also differed in their approaches to the significance of particular provinces. Boyen came from East Prussia and could not imagine leaving his province to fend for itself without an attempt to find the means to establish an effective defence system there.79 Despite differences regarding specific provinces, both generals shared a common understanding of the general problems concerning the defence of Prussian territories. Müffling primarily had in mind the heart of the Kingdom of Prussia, which was sufficiently secured by the Oder and Vistula lines. From the perspective of concepts considered in the years 1815–1819, both proposals had positive points. Thorn and Prussian territories on the right bank of the Vistula were the most likely targets of the first operations of invading Russian or Polish-Russian forces before they proceeded to attack Wrocław and Posen and then Berlin. Yet in the financial dearth of the 1820s, Müffling’s proposal was far more realistic than Boyen’s,80 whose partial implementation would only become possible two decades later.81 In stark contrast to the 1815–1819 period, hardly any Prussian studies of the western theatre of war have survived from the 1820s.82 Due to fears of a French 79 Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 455–456. 80 Such an opinion of Boyen’s proposal was presented by Meinecke, who claimed that the picturesque forests and lakes of Boyen’s homeland had played on his imagination in a way that obscured the real possibilities of defending that region; ibid., 456. 81 Ibid., 534–535. 82 I do not mention here an 1828 excerpt from Clausewitz’s Vom Kriege with a proposed war plan against France, as it is difficult to assess in the context of the practice in that decade;

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resurgence,83 studies were certainly carried out, as testified in extant registers.84 An example is the undated memorandum of Major General Ernst von Pfuel, found in the legacy of Prince Augustus.85 This is an exceptionally comprehensive study of the terrain in the western provinces of Prussia, which ­includes a proposed operational plan against France. The text, unfortunately, does not provide clues as to when it was written. Pfuel was nominated as a general on the 19th of September 1818, and had served as chief of General Staff in the Koblenz Generalkommando since May. Before that he served in the ggs, carrying out tours of the western theatre of war. He completed his service in Koblenz following staff changes in 1824. The text, therefore, may have been written anywhere between the two dates. The account, despite uncertainty about it’s dating, does represent the opinions of a chief of staff in the Prussian western theatre of war. Pfuel was of the opinion that the defence of the Rhineland and Westphalia should be considered as part of the Prussian system and also part of the German Confederation defence system. He felt this required a detailed presentation of the terrain, natural resources, road infrastructure, and fortifications in the two provinces, which is what most of his memorandum is devoted to.86 Pfuel is extremely meticulous, thanks to the reconnaissance missions he had carried out. In his description of the terrain, he repeatedly stresses its suitability for a Volkskriege, following the example of the Vendée Uprising.87 The presentation was meant to be a starting point for an analysis of the region’s ­defence system. He argued that the centre (der Mittelpunkt) of the Kingdom of Clausewitz, Hinterlassene Werke des Generals Carl von Clausewitz über Krieg und Kriegführung, vol. 1: Vom Kriege, part 1 (Berlin, 1832), 194–202; Clausewitz, Vom Kriege. Hinterlassenes Werk des Generals Carl von Clausewitz, 5th Ed. (Berlin, 1905), 677, footnote *. An extant memorandum exclusively concerning the fortification of Wesel; sbb pk, pdk, xlii Wesel, No. 153, Beschreibung der Festung Wesel, s.l., c. 1820, s.p. 83 According to Cox, the 1823 French intervention in Spain opened a new chapter in how the German Confederation perceived French potential. The intervention primarily showed how in a short space of time, the French were able to regain their ability to carry out offensive operations. This was clearly shown by the Conseil de Superieure de la Guerre convened by Charles x in 1828. Yet, despite the French monarch’s aggressive policy, the chief planning issue remained the fortification of the French border against a possible allied invasion. The great advantage of the French forces was their cohesion, against which the German Confederation forces, despite the numerical superiority, were incapable of launching an effective offensive; Cox, The Halt in the Mud, 78–93. 84 BA-MA, rh 18/471, Aktenverzeichnisse, 79–97. 85 GStA pk, bph, Rep. 57 iii, No. 190, Bemerkungen über die Vertheidugung der rheinlandische und westfalische Provinzen, vom General-Major v. Pfuel, s.l., s.t., 1–56. 86 Ibid., 1–33. 87 In the case of the Siebengebirge and areas to the north of the Lippe district; ibid., 9–10, 21.

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Prussia lay between the Elbe and Oder, and the further from the centre of the province the more difficult it would be to defend against invading armies. This  natural weakness necessitated resorting to ‘artificial means of defence’ (künstliche Vertheidgungs-Mittel), so as to gain time until the arrival of reinforcements. For this reason the western provinces, which were separated from the rest of Prussia, needed to create an autonomous defence system. This defence system should include fortifications, waterways, and roads, as well as the deployment and division of troops in a given situation. Pfuel treated fortresses as the basis for all operations, and should be treated as such in the region. The relatively small size of the provinces meant that their centres could be reached within 3 to 4 days. There was, therefore, no point in focussing on border fortifications. Since it was uncertain whether border fortifications would be ready by the outbreak of war, Pfuel believed the first line of defence should be a 4 to 5 days’ march from the border, so as not to fall into the hands of the enemy. The main line of defence was to be the Rhine, which was 10 to 15 miles from the borders of France and the Netherlands. Numerous roads crossing the Rhine, as well as difficult terrain to the south, meant that the central point for all operations towards the Lahn and Moselle was the capital of that part of Prussia, Cologne. It would therefore be the first target of the enemy, and its fortification should be treated as a priority.88 Koblenz should be fortified so that the Prussians would have a well defended 30-mile section of the Rhine protected by four fortresses. Moreover, the fortifications of Bonn and Düsseldorf should be strengthened. One large stronghold would provide better support for a defending army than several small ones, and prevent the dispersion of forces. Fortifications were also necessary on approaches to the Rhine, and due to the lack of a military point on the Meuse, Jülich should become a key border fortress. Likewise, Trier should be fortified because of its location on the Moselle and its connection with Koblenz and Mainz. Luxembourg and Saarlouis, which had been of limited importance after the fortification of Trier, could together become an important base for offensive operations. On the other hand, Pfuel saw no reason to fortify the area between the rivers Ruhr and Lahn, as it was secured by natural barriers. In the second line, on the Weser, it was essential to hold on to Minden and to fortify Kassel, which played a similar role to Cologne on the Rhine. With regard to roads, Pfuel mentioned two opinions to the Ministry of War. Above all, he was sceptical about the construction of roads in the Eifel and from Cologne to Trier before completion of the fortifications.89 For Pfuel, the main enemy of the Prussians in the west was naturally France, whose 88 89

Ibid., 35–45. Ibid., 45–46.

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attack he expected in three configurations. In the case of a French-Dutch ­alliance, the main enemy line of attack would probably be directed against Cologne and Düsseldorf. Against this around 60,000 soldiers could be deployed, of which, even with the second recruitment of Landwehr, 20,000 had to be assigned to manning the fortresses. It would be difficult to stop an enemy of at least 120,000 enemy troops. Failure was not essential as long as the Prussians held on to Cologne. If the enemy decided to spread out along the Rhine and only focus on Cologne, this would create a chance for the Prussians to withdraw to regroup with reinforcements arriving from the German interior or manoeuvre with support of Prussian held fortresses to gather forces and, with enemy forces divided, fight a battle when the circumstances were most favourable. This could be facilitated by mustering irregular forces in the provinces from among the local population. Although the terrain was suitable for a people’s war, Pfuel doubted the morale and commitment of the local inhabitants. Nevertheless, attempts should be made in peacetime to exploit patriotic feelings. The second scenario assumed the neutrality of the Netherlands, which would leave the French only a line of operation through Trier and Mainz. The Prussians should then concentrate all their forces in Cologne. In the case of an alliance between Prussia and the Netherlands, the French would then direct their main forces against the Netherlands to divide their enemies. The theatre of Prussian operations would then shift to the Meuse and the actions of allies should be correlated. Holding on to the Meuse line would secure the Rhine.90 Treating the Prussian provinces as part of the defence system of the German Confederation would modify the significance of military points. In this case, the central point should be attributed to Mainz, to which comments regarding Cologne should apply. The capital of the Prussian west, nevertheless, retained its significance. The role of Trier should now be taken over by the Lahn. The centre of the German Confederation defence system should be the line of the Main. As in the case of the first scenario, Pfuel recommended the concentration of forces at Mainz and holding out as long as possible on the Rhine line.91 Pfuel naturally left an exact description of the operation to the commander. Pfuel’s views reveal propositions by his predecessor in Koblenz, Clausewitz. Despite his exceptionally detailed study of terrain, he opted for the simplest and most natural actions based on central points in the provinces. An influence of Boyen’s principles of building a defence system may also be discerned. The lack of comparative material, unfortunately, does not allow for the

90 91

Ibid., 46–54. Ibid., 54–56.

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judgment of these proposals to consider them representative of the 1820–1830 ­period in Prussian defence planning. Among extant sources, a 182192 study of Russian army actions to occupy the European parts of Turkey, whose text is now found in the Gneisenau legacy.93 There are several problems associated with this document. It is difficult to determine the reason it was written, what sources the authors had at their disposal, and, above all, whether it had a purpose other than training. The fact that it was authentic is testified by its presentation to Frederick William iii.94 Its study of Prussian strategic concepts is naturally of limited use. It concerns a specific situation, ‘the Turkish war’, and therefore a conflict that was considered in contemporary military theory to be separate. Secondly, it concerns neither Prussia nor the Prussian army, and therefore had nothing to do with the strategic policy of the Kingdom of Prussia. As the only known Prussian study of the subject, the document is detached from other trends of consideration. Although, many testimonies state that the document was known and widely commented among Prussian officers.95 The plan included an offensive operation involving 200,000 Russian soldiers concentrated on the river Prut, supported by 36 warships and 120 merchant ships as a main depot, with supplies for half a year in Odessa.96 The study did not concern a political background, but only the material aspects of the campaign. The Russian plan was to capture Ismail on the Danube, which would give them a convenient point from which to launch an offensive against Constantinople, just 95 miles away. The Russians were to operate in two equally sized armies (100,000 men in each), separated from each other by a 30-mile gap, and each with an independent cavalry corps. The left flank of one column was to be in Bessarabia, and the other to be in Podolia. The first objective was to occupy Moldavia and Wallachia, which ­required thorough preparations, especially with regard to supplies. The next objective was to be kept in secret: the army was to march through Bulgaria close enough to the Black Sea to be able to obtain supplies from the ports of Varna, Burgas, and Midiye. Commanders’ orders, therefore, had to take into account the loading and unloading of ship supplies.97 Immediately after the 92 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C1, Die Arbeiten des Generalstab 1821, s.p. 93 GStA pk, vi. ha, Nachlass August Neidhardt von Gneisenau (hereafter Gneisenau), No. 438, Operationsplan der Russen gegen die Türkei nach dem jetzigen Standpunkt der Kriegführung, s.l., 1st D ­ ecember 1821, 286–297v. 94 GStA pk, vi. ha, Groeben, No. ii C1, Die Arbeiten des Generalstab 1821, s.p. 95 Evidence includes its presence in the Gneisenau or Groeben’s opinion on the subject in Natzmer’s biography; Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 1, 209–211. 96 GStA pk, vi. ha, Gneisenau, No. 438, Operationsplan, 286–288. 97 Ibid., 288.

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outbreak of war, the cavalry corps was to invade and occupy Moldavian and Wallachian territories. The march of the main forces was to proceed towards Constantinople in three sections. The first section was to march to the Shumen-Varna line for 13 days in two main columns in cooperation with the Russian fleet. The first army was to cross the Danube 10 days ahead of the second. Depending on the circumstances, it was to march along the Prut on the Turkish or the Russian side, crossing the Danube near Ismail or threatening Bucharest. Both armies were to proceed without the cavalry. The Turkish army was expected to withdraw from the Danube line and opposing forces would not clash on Wallachian territory. Therefore, the second army would not need to receive marching orders until seven days after the departure of the first army. However, it was essential for the second army to create another line on the border between Dobruja and the Little Balkans as soon as the first army left that territory on its march towards Shumen and Varna. At that time, both cavalry corps were to be engaged in subjugating the provinces, and would not be needed by the main forces as they marched through mountainous terrain. One column from the first army was to advance close to the Danube, the other was to proceed close to the coast, and were to unite on the seventh day after passing Mangalia. It was probable that the Turks would want to fight a battle against the Russians in the Little Balkans. In this situation, assuming that both Russian armies were cooperating, one would operate on the right flank and the other would face the the enemy head on without the advantage of the cavalry. The outcome of the clash would be a forgone conclusion. Even if the enemy right flank did not clash, they would be threatened with being cut off from Constantinople, as much as if they lost the battle. The operation of the first section, therefore, had to end with a battle or a Turkish withdrawal and thus determine actions in the second section, for if the Turks were beaten or failed to fight a battle, they would no longer be able to defend the Great Balkans.98 Before starting the second section, marching through the Great Balkans, the Russians needed to make numerous preparations, including the fortification of many places or capturing fortified points to provide support for further actions. It was assumed that the region, bordered by the Danube, the Black Sea, and ­Varna Lake, could be turned into a fortified base. This required the occupation of Varna to serve as a base for fleet supplies, where there was no fortress. Detailed tasks were foreseen for the cavalry, which was to advance in the direction of Adrianople, reaching it on the 45th day since operations began.99 The first army was to march in two columns towards Adrianople and Burgas. One 98 99

Ibid., 289–291. Ibid., 291v–292v.

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d­ ivision was to march along the coast and capture successive ports. Before operations in the third section, it was necessary to capture the port of Midye. After r­eaching this line, the Russians were to build field fortifications. Actions after passing through the third sections would be determined by the route the enemy chose to withdraw to Constantinople and Gallipoli. It was assumed that on the 45th day, both Russian armies would meet, with the second army on the left flank, threatening the right flank of the Turks.100 On the 50th day, the march through the third section would begin. No obstacles were expected, and consequently the number of marching columns was left to the commander’s discretion. Constantinople had to be besieged, regardless of whether the Turks lost the battle or simply withdrew. The Russian fleet could significantly facilitate the Russian troops in this matter. Even without this support, besieging Constantinople was considered to be easy, especially with the possibility of cutting it off from the supply of fresh water in the first days. The occupation of Gallipoli and capture of Constantinople would end the conquest of the European part of the Ottoman Empire, which would be incapable of any counteractions after the loss of these two points. The greatest challenge to the implementation of this plan was to ensure efficient and punctual cooperation between the Russian army and its fleet.101 The success of the operation depended on the result of two battles, but everything was so well-prepared and calculated in terms of time and place that the Russians felt no need to fear defeat. Of course, it was possible for the Turks to pre-empt the Russian concentration of troops and strike first. In this situation, it was necessary to bear in mind that the Russians would be able to assign as many as 400,000 soldiers, not counting the Guard and the Polish army. These forces would take up positions on the Dniester line, and the Turks operating between Transylvania and the Danube would concentrate behind Suceava. In a similar formulaic but briefer style, the author did not predict any success for the Turks. Lacking a base and weakly supported flanks, their forces would most probably be destroyed in Moldovia or Wallachia.102 This study is glaringly formulaic in style. Such a detailed plan for almost two months would only make sense if the enemy decided to act precisely in accordance with the study’s assumptions. In reality, the plan would most likely fall through in its first phase. It did not take into account possible setbacks, such as exhaustion after a forced march. The actions are strictly dependent on the geography, and the Turkish enemy as always a defeated or fleeing army. 100 Ibid., 293–294. 101 Ibid., 294–295. 102 Ibid., 295v–297.

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The plan was also not enthusiastically received by the Prussian officers. Oldwig von Natzmer, then serving in the General Staff of the vi Army Corps, was according to memoirs of Groeben supposed to have had serious doubts about this work.103 In spite of having great respect for the author’s knowledge and talent, he had objections. Above all, he believed it was impossible for such weak forces to capture Constantinople within 50 days. Moreover, the distance between the two armies was too large, which in the difficult terrain would effectively rule out communication and cooperation between them. The conviction that it would be easy to block the fortresses on the Rhine was quite unrealistic. Natzmer was similarly sceptical with regard to the assumption that the Turkish cavalry, consisting chiefly of native inhabitants, would not be able to operate in mountainous terrain. The fact that the Russian cavalry would be separated from the Russian infantry made all its supposed achievements doubtful. The infantry division, expected to march along the coast, could at most perform a demonstrational role, but not control it. He considered the task of transporting supplies from the coast to the interior to be difficult. Natzmer did not see basic differences between the situation of the Russian troops and the Turkish ones. Both would act without a base and could find themselves in equally disadvantageous positions. Generally, he stated that making such precise calculations for an operation in unknown territory was risky. Thus, the plan was thoroughly criticised. Interestingly, the author of the plan was considered to be none other than Müffling, as Natzmer concluded his critique with the motto that appeared on all the works written by the Chief of the General Staff of the Army.104 Casting aside issues specific to the terrain and opposing forces, one sees certain elements of campaign planning. Above all, the possession of operation bases was considered essential for supplying troops and allowing for a safe withdrawal. Fulfilling this requirement was basic to all actions. The movement of troops was entirely conditioned by the geography, river crossings, fortresses, and ports. Natzmer was right to criticise a disregard of the potential abilities of the Turkish troops. The plan clearly ignores moral factors, such as the state of both armies, their composition, structure, morale, training, discipline, and commanders. The actions are more reminiscent of a game of chess, where every decision is conditioned by the positions of the other pieces on the board, and the number of possible moves is limited. If this was indeed what Müffling’s operational plans looked like, the complaints of later authors seem justified. On the other hand, it could be that this study was just an elaborate presentation for the monarch. 103 Natzmer, Unter den Hohenzollern, part 1, 209–211. 104 ‘La critique est aisée mais l’art est difficile’.

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Extant traces of military planning in the years 1820–1830 indicate a continuation of policies from the preceding period. Although Müffling did not attach particular importance to the concept of a ‘defence system’, his actions largely followed the line drafted by his predecessors. The state of the army reflected the difficult financial condition in the Hohenzollern kingdom. In this situation, one could only think of defence planning, by effective preparation of the terrain and adapting operational variants accordingly. This task rested primarily on the officers of the General Staff, though whether their instructions would be followed by individual kgs or by the supreme commander in the event of war is uncertain. The defence planning process was detertmined, but as the opinions of Clausewitz show, it was not necessarily accepted by all the officers. Clausewitz’s views were shared, for instance, by Gneisenau, a figure that could play a leading role in the event of war. Therefore, even the doctrinal uniformity of Müffling’s subordinates need not have any impact in the event of war. Prussian strategic concepts in this period might appear anachronistic, but the entirety of Prussian military thought was not contained in these plans. Perhaps this explains the contrast between Müffling’s writings and what he actually did in practice. Clausewitz writings were created in isolation from military realities, contrary to his claims and not based on experience, but rather an application of abstract ideas. In many places in the theoretical sphere, Müffling had similar views. Perhaps it was the actual state of the Kingdom of Prussia and its defence system that forced him to present particular views of military strategic operations.

Part 3 Prussian Strategic Thought in Military Literature in the Years 1815–1830

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Introduction to Part 3 The presentation of strategy contained in Prussian military literature is easier than an attempt to reconstruct military doctrine and planning aspects. The material generally appears as individual works or in published periodicals. Its abundance creates the problem of selection, which is especially significant in light of the methodological issues. As well as restricting the scope of analysis to the subject of strategy, a basic objective is to identify the authors and works that most significantly influenced Prussian thoughts on the matter, that is, the publications that were actually noticed and valued. Defining such a criterion is not easy. For fundamental reasons, one needs to rule out any appraisal of the importance of authors and their works simply on the basis of impressions derived from German historiography prior to 1945. These appraisals were closely associated with training, propaganda, political, and social needs of the time. In view of the widespread presence of this teleology in post-war literature as well, it is indispensable to present, discuss, and where necessary criticise the theses of a large number of Prussian military authors, even though this does not answer the question of reception. In analysing the significance and recognition of the person and views of Scharnhorst in Germany up to the year 1871, Marie-Nicolette Hoppe1 has proposed three criteria that allow for an assessment of the early reception of military literature.2 The first criterion is the number of times a work was reprinted, suggesting the level of interest in the author’s views. This, however, may not be a safe assumption in the case of authors who were still alive and able to influence the republication of their works. Nonetheless, it is equally true that ­republication can reflect the popularity of an author’s views or his influence. The second criterion is the presence of works in professional libraries. This ­approach is, unfortunately, virtually inapplicable to the period under study. Although Hoppe points to texts regarding this matter,3 the lack of German 1 M.-N. Hoppe, Beiträge zum Scharnhorst-Bild im 19. Jahrhundert (1813–1871): Persönlichkeit und Werk in der frühen Rezeption, PhD thesis, Rheinischen Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität zu Bonn 1994, Bonn, 1995. 2 Ibid., 247–251. 3 The article she cites from Zeitschrift für Kunst, Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Krieges, concerning Prussian military libraries, unfortunately only contains information about the quantities of collected literature; ‘Nachricht von den im königlich preußischen Heer befindlichen Bibliotheken’, zkwg 2, 5 (1826), 209–225. Due to the time of its creation, in my opinion, also of limited use is the catalogue published by the Great General Staff Library in 1878; Grosser Generalstab, Katalog der Bibliothek des Königlich Preussischen Grosser Generalstabes (Berlin, 1878).

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military library lists and catalogues for the years 1815–1830 renders the use of this criterion as a measure of reception impractical. The third criterion is the ­citation of a writer’s works by other authors. This is certainly an important factor in studying the reception of a given publication, though it should be treated with considerable caution. Personal connections in Prussia were such that often persons of opposing views would give positive appraisals of the works of their acquaintances. The assessment of a citation in another author’s work needs always to be preceded by an examination of the position, status, and personal relations between the two authors. The first criterion for defining the significance of a given work needs to be that of the author himself; the positions he held indicate not only his notability but also the range of influence of the author’s works. The role an author played within the community, general acceptance of his opinions, recognition of his authority, as well as his relations with other writers and leading figures in the army are of equal importance. An equally important criterion is the discussion of a given work in military periodicals, which were the primary means of transferring knowledge and promoting specific books to a large numbers of officers. Book reviews, although polemical by their very nature, are a sure indication whether a work was noticed and how it was received. Contemporary military bibliographies are also helpful, as these show whether a given work was generally known and available.4 Citation in other works is determined by the role the given author played within a community. Another criterion is whether republication occurred shortly after 1830. Also of significance is the case of a work being translated, which also accounts for an author being mentioned in non-German historiography. Based on consideration of these criteria, the most influential works in the 1815–1830 period were those of Johann Otto August Rühle von Lilienstern, Carl von Decker, Georg Wilhelm von Valentini, Johann Friedrich Constantin von Lossau, and Heinrich von Brandt. This selection is certainly by no means unique in the context of earlier studies. Indeed, it is to a large extent a synthesis of various Prussian reflections on war in the 1815–1830 period. Clausewitz’s theory and constructs of the ‘romantic reaction’ take into account only those elements in works that suit a predetermined model. The views of authors should not be detached from their community but insofar as possible be seen within the spectrum of interactions with other authors and reviewers, as well as in the context of defence planning reflecting the significance of the author’s views in Prussian thoughts on strategy. 4 Hoyer, Litteratur; H.F. Rumpf, Allgemeine Literatur der Kriegswissenschaften. Eines systematisch-chronologischen Verzeichnisses aller seit der Erfindung der Buchdruckerkunst in den vornehmsten europäischen Sprachen erschienenen Bücher über sämmtliche Kriegswissenschaften, vol. 1–2 (Berlin, 1824–1825).

Chapter 10

Johann Otto August Rühle von Lilienstern and his Vision of the Art of War The liberal Prussian politician Karl August Varnhagen von Ense noted under the date of the 3rd of January 1841 his observations on what he felt to be a harmful ‘fixation’ regarding Clausewitz.1 The politician considered him to be a false authority and his Vom Kriege to be a book of gibberish. These feelings he shared with his friend Johann Otto Rühle von Lilienstern during a walk. Rühle was to have said that he largely agreed but warned against expressing such opinions in public. The book had brought Prussia pride and such open criticism would jeopardise the reputation of the author, who should be admired abroad. The above anecdote aptly reflects the life of Rühle – a well oriented and personally connected intellectual, who always acted in accordance with the overriding interests of Prussia. Discussion of the theoretical military views contained in the literary legacy of Rühle von Lilienstern is of key importance for illustrating Prussian military thought in the 1815–1830. The significance of his views is primarily linked with the positions he held during the period. The shape of military-­historical reflection in the first years after the Napoleonic Wars largely depended on him. In the 1820s he had a considerable influence on how strategic concepts were formed in all three Kriegstheater, as well as the training of the Great General Staff officers under him. Unfortunately, we have no sources on this aspect of Rühle von Lilienstern’s activities, though a biographical sketch in the 1847 Beiheft zum Militair-Wochenblatt indicates that there existed numerous instructions and sketches representing Rühle von Lilienstern’s concepts, in particular those describing specific Kriegstheater.2 Knowing little about the official aspect of Rühle von Lilienstern’s activity, an analysis of his military works assumes importance as the only source revealing the ideas he held when he was in office. The prestige associated with the position he occupied would have had a positive effect on the reception of his concepts. He was widely known and appreciated due to his extensive interests3 and had a special status in the 1 K.A. Varnhagen von Ense, Tagebücher von K.A. Varnhagen von Ense, vol. 1 (Leipzig, 1861), 259–260. 2 [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 162. 3 Discussion of numerous field of interest: ibid., 177–191.

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Prussian army. The list of the general’s acquaintances was long and included persons of diverse political persuasions. Rühle himself belonged to a group of liberals associated with Scharnhorst,4 and the biographer considered some of his views on the organisation of the Landsturm to be doctrinal and utopian.5 Quite characteristically, Rühle von Lilienstern had a close relationship with Müffling, a person from the reformers’ circle who gradually moved to a conservative position and was able to move freely in changing the constellation of internal politics.6 A similar ability was possessed by Rühle. According to the author of the biographical sketch, it was actually his written works that had the greatest influence. He made a decisive contribution to breakthroughs in military science following changes in warfare in the first quarter of the 19th century. The significance of his ideas were to be noted in the works of later military authors and were themselves widely known among the majority of officers.7 In the mid-19th century, his name usually appeared alongside that of Clausewitz as one of the outstanding Prussian theorists in the period following the Napoleonic Wars.8 Both men held similar views regarding key aspects for which they were perceived as representatives of the ‘romantic’ trend in Prussian reflections on war. Rühle was the promoter and reviewer of the first posthumously published edition of Clausewitz’s reflections on war.9 Already in 1879, Heinrich von Treitschke stated: ‘Nowhere else one can find a nobler influence of the pure political idealism of soldiers in the liberation wars than in Colonel Rühle von Lilienstern’s Vom Kriege. This ingenious work appears to us from today’s perspective as the scientific programme for the modern organisation of the German army, refuting Kant’s teaching of perpetual peace and in particular the underlying fiction of the natural state with arguments from the historical study of the state and law, views which today are perceived as a c­ ommon property

4 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder Die „romantische“ Einheit des Krieges’, J.A.O. Rühle von Lilienstern, Apologie des Krieges, ed. and afterword J.-J. Langendorf (Vienna, 1984), xii–xiii. 5 M. Lehmann, Scharnhorst, part 2: Seit dem Tilsiter Frieden (Leipzig, 1887), 599. 6 Langendorf, ‘Der Krieg als schöne Kunst betrachtet’, 244–246; Weniger, Goethe, 59–83. 7 [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 125. 8 E.g. ‘Der General von Infanterie von Krauseneck. Ein Lebensabris’, Beiheft zum MilitairWochenblatt (1852), 82–83. 9 Rühle von Lilienstern, ‘Vom Kriege. Hinterlassenes Werk des Generals Carl von Clausewitz. Erster Theil. Berlin 1832. Zweiter Theil 1833. Berlin bei Ferd. Dümmler. Auch unter dem Titel: Hinterlassene Werke des Generals Carl v. Clausewitz, über Krieg und Kriegführung. Erster und zweiter Band u. s.’, Jahrbücher für Wissenschaftliche Kritik 2, 26 (1833), 201–206; 27 (1833), 209–215; 28 (1833), 217–223.

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among educated Germans’.10 The German historian considered it particularly important to promote wars as a necessary element in educating the nation to live in peace. As a programme for the entire century, he considered nationalisation of the military and militarisation. All the forces of state should be united for the purposes of war, whereas the army should be perceived not as a weapon in the hands of the state or concealed in the case of a threat, but rather as the state’s armed wing linked with its perpetual existence. According to Treitschke, the institutions and actions of the state should be at once both of a warlike and peaceful character, so as to instil in the nation qualities essential to its survival.11 In Treitschke’s opinion, therefore, Rühle von Lilienstern was a precursor of the movement that eventually led to the unification of Germany, partly by military means. Interest in the views of Rühle von Lilienstern significantly diminished after 1871. Although his name did appear in an article on the contemporary art and science of war, his views on strategy and tactics were judged to be subordinate to Clausewitz’s theory.12 He was not discussed in the popular works of Rudolf von Caemmerer or Hugo von Freytag-Loringhoven on the development of strategic thought in the 19th century.13 Likewise, Herbert von Böckmann did not include him among important military authors of the period.14 His views on the art of war were presented briefly in an extensive biographical sketch published in Aus den Papieren der Familie von Schleinitz in 1905.15 Nevertheless, Rühle von Lilienstern was never completely forgotten, and in the period before 1945 two key currents of research into his significance emerged. The earlier of the two is based on a scheme sketched in 1940 by Ernst Hagemann and focuses on the military aspects of the general’s activities. Hagemann accentuated ­Rühle’s contribution to the development of German military thought. He considered Rühle to be a precursor of Clausewitz and a link in the chain running from Georg Heinrich von Berenhorst and Gerhard von Scharnhorst to the 10

‘Nirgends aber fand der kühne politische Idealismus der Soldaten des Befreiungskrieges einen edleren Ausdruck als in dem Buche des Obersten Rühle von Lilienstern „Vom Kriege“. Die geistvolle Schrift, die uns Rückschauenden heute wie das wissenschaftliche Programm der modernen deutschen Heeresverfassung erscheint, widerlegte Kants Lehre vom ewigen Frieden und namentlich die ihr zu Grunde liegende Fiction des Naturzustandes durch die Beweisgründe der hiſtorischen Staats- und Rechtslehre, deren Anschauungen bereits anfingen zu einem Gemeingute der bestgebildeten Deutschen zu werden.’; Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 1 (Leipzig, 1879), 585. 11 Ibid., 585–586. 12 [Meerheimb], ‘Ueber Militair-Bildung,’ 6, 11, 34. 13 Caemmerer, Die Entwickelung; Freytag-Loringhoven, Heerführung, 1–48. 14 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 115–147. 15 Aus den Papieren, 13–249.

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c­ rystallization of the deutsche Lehre vom Kriege, although the work of Berenhorst was of a more universal nature, including issues concerning politics, philosophy, morality, and religion, while Clausewitz reflected more on purely military concepts. Both, however, were to be model representatives of the new type of soldier educated in Scharnhorst’s circle.16 The author limited his analysis to a fragment of Rühle von Lilienstern work, his Handbuch für den Offizier zur Belehrung im Frieden und zum Gebrauch im Felde17 and reviews of Clausewitz’s writings, focusing on areas where the two thinkers agreed. Rühle once again began to be perceived as a leading representative of the ‘romantic’ school of military thought. Contrary to the materialistic war of the Enlightenment, his was a spiritual and humanistic vision of war, a sort of ‘proto-Clausewitz’. The point of view represented by Hagemann corresponds with the 1944 widely cited article18 Klassiker der Kriegskunst of Friedrich von Cochenhausen, who had written the preface to Hagemann’s book.19 In the article, Cochenhausen refers to the figure of Rühle von Lilienstern as Hagemann had portrayed him, placing him alongside Jomini, Archduke Charles, Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, and Clausewitz as one of the most outstanding military thinkers of the post-Napoleonic period.20 At the same time, Cochenhausen notes that because of his philosophical interests, Rühle somewhat neglected the more practical aspects of the art of war. His views were supposed to be similar to other Prussian authors who had also been students of Scharnhorst’s school, especially regarding links between politics and war. This opinion corresponded to the views of Hagemann,21 from whose work Cochenhausen made use, though apart from Scharnhorst’s school he stated that Prussia also drew inspiration from Jomini, among whose supporters he included Valentini and Willisen. Views formed in 1940s became widespread in later literature concerning Clausewitz. In his Staatskunst und Kriegshandwerk, Gerhard Ritter was not inspired by these works, yet his discussion of Rühle von Lilienstern predominantly compares his views with those of Clausewitz, mainly regarding relations between politics and war.22 Indeed, the German scholar concludes that such a comparison makes more probable the theory that Clausewitz used the works of Rühle.23 It is certain that Ulrich 16 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 55–58. 17 R. v. L. [Rühle von Lilienstern], Handbuch. 18 Cochenhausen, ‘Klassiker’, 235–252. 19 Cochenhausen, ‘Zum Geleit’, Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, i. 20 Cochenhausen, ‘Klassiker’, 243. 21 Ibid., 252. 22 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 211, 348–349, footnote 6 on 129, 369–371, footnote 5 on 211. The starting point for Ritter were naturally the views of Treitschke and the book by Weniger. 23 Ibid., 370, footnote 5 on 211.

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­ arwedel was relying on Cochenhausen’s text in his analysis of the perception M of Clausewitz’s views by contemporary military authors in the historiography of the Second Reich.24 He came to the conclusion that apart from Archduke Charles, Jomini, and Willisen, no military theorist in the first 60 years of the 19th century could compete with the author of Vom Kriege.25 This also concerned Rühle von Lilienstern, whose views resembled those of Clausewitz, which set him apart from others who were considered followers of Jomini. The portrait first established in German historiography was reproduced in other countries. The theses of both texts, though not referred to directly, were repeated, for instance, by Herbert Rosinski in his well-known article Scharnhorst to Schlieffen.26 Rosinski considered Rühle and Lossau to be closely connected thinkers of the post-Napoleonic period who were, nevertheless, overshadowed by Scharnhorst and Clausewitz. In his opinion, it was the effect of their philosophical interests, which led to scepticism and, on the other hand, to speculative aberrations of no practical or theoretical significance.27 Rühle was to have admonished Clausewitz to formulate his theory in its entirety, taking into account spiritual, moral, and subjective factors. The philosophical inclinations linking Rühle with Lossau greatly hindered the reception of their works, which were replete with seemingly endless speculations that led to no clear conclusion. All this allowed for their works to be eclipsed by the achievements of their colleagues, Clausewitz in particular, as the they were able to combine the philosophical trends represented by Rühle with the textbook clarity of the writings of Scharnhorst.28 While Rosinski presented a critical appraisal of Rühle’s works, he nonetheless included him in the trend outlined by Hagemann and Cochenhausen. Today’s Anglo-Saxon scholars draw on the image composed in the 1940s, treating the works of Rühle as the backdrop of the period in which Clausewitz wrote and a confirmation that his views were widely held.29 Most opinions on this matter are based on citations form the work of Hagemann. Only recently has this situation been changed by Beatrice Heuser in her study of the evolution of strategic thought over the centuries. In her most recent works, she mainly cites excerpts from the Handbuch, and conventionally ascribes Rühle von Lilienstern to the romantic generation of Prussian military

24 Marwedel, Carl von Clausewitz, 183–190. 25 Ibid., 190. 26 Rosinski, ‘Scharnhorst’, 83–103. 27 Ibid., 83. 28 Ibid., 86–90. 29 Gat, The Origins, 111, 211, 242; Heuser, Reading, 9, 30–31, 45, 184.

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thought.30 Post-war Anglo-Saxon research is decidedly on a smaller scale than that of post-war scholars writing in French. Their precursor was Fernand T. Schneider, whose 1949 article on German military thought in the Clausewitz epoch was a concise summation of Hagemann’s ideas without actually citing the source,31 which is also the case with the fragment concerning Rühle von Lilienstern.32 In an abridged form but preserving the contours and contents of Hagemann’s work, Schneider refers to the general in his book Histoire des doctrines militaires.33 Inspired by these references, a complex study on the work of Rühle von Lilienstern was carried out by the Swiss scholar Jean-Jacques Langendorf, who not only edited some of the general’s writings but also added insightful comments.34 In his work on Prussian perception of Jomini, Langendorf also carried out a thorough study of a review of the writings of the Swiss theorist and of his follower Willisen written by Rühle von Lilienstern.35 Langendorf was the only scholar to focus on Rühle’s actual ideas, presenting an original summary of his theory of war, though basing it, unfortunately, on only some of Rühle’s published works.36 Langendorf sought to take into account not only the military aspects of Rühle’s work, but also their philosophical, moral, religious, and aesthetic conditions. A somewhat different aspect of French reflection on the subject is presented in the work of Hervé Coutau-Bégarie, Traité de stratégie. This author frequently cites Rühle von Lilienstern in 30 Heuser, The Evolution, 6, 171–190; Heuser, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern August (1780–1847)’, Philosophers of War, vol. 1, 213–216; Heuser, ‘Small Wars in the Age of Clausewitz: the Watershed between Partisan War and People’s War’, Journal of Strategic Studies 1(2010), 145–146; Heuser, Strategy Makers. Thoughts of War and Society from Machiavelli to Clausewitz (Santa Barbara, Denver, Oxford, 2010), 171–190. 31 Schneider, ‘La pensée’, 437–451. The text even retains the same two-part arrangement in which the ideas of Berenhorst, Scharnhorst, Lossau and Rühle are presented in the first part, and the ideas of Clausewitz are subdivided thematically into subchapters in the second. 32 Ibid., 444–445. 33 Schneider, Histoire, 47. 34 Langendorf, ‘Der Krieg als schöne’, 233–268; Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder’, i– liii; Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern und seine Apologie des Krieges’, Die Wiedergeburt des Krieges aus dem Geist der Revolution. Studien zum bellizistischen Diskurs des ausgehenden 18. und beginnenden 19. Jahrhunderts, ed. J. Kunisch and H. Münkler (Berlin, 1999), 211–223. French versions of the first two articles: Langendorf, ‘De la guerre considérée comme un des Beaux-Arts’ and ‘Rühle von Lilienstern et son Apologie de la guerre’, Langendorf, La pensée, 219–244 and 245–262. 35 Langendorf, ‘Karl Wilhelm von Willisen: le stratégiste qui voulut être stratège’, Langendorf, La pensée, 441–473; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 327–328, 374–379, 380–381, 407–408, 436–440. 36 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern und seine Apologie’, 215–216.

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r­ eference to the ‘Prussian model’ of strategy, arguing that together with Lossau he expressed views partially heralding Clausewitz’s theory, with emphasis on the primacy of politics and on the decisive role of a major battle, although the discussion of the role of politics appears to be an over-interpretation.37 In describing the ‘German School’, the French scholar referred to Jomini’s famous opinion of that school’s representatives in his Précis de l’art de la guerre,38 noting that he failed to mention Clausewitz’s two ‘predecessors’.39 Hervé CoutauBégarie’s explanation for this follows Rosinski’s arguments, namely that Rühle’s works were difficult to read.40 In this context, a critical review by Rühle of Jomini’s writings, published in Jahrbücher für Wissenschaftliche Kritik in the early 1830s is ignored,41 as well as the polemics between Rühle and Jomini42 mentioned by Hagemann, Schneider, and Langendorf, a disagreement that all but ended years of friendship and correspondence between the two writers.43 Coutau-Bégarie, furthermore, ignored another aspect of the Rühle-Jomini relationship. In a translated fragment of his Précis, published in zkwg in 1836, the Swiss theorist claimed that Rühle had been copying his ideas and presenting them as his own.44 The claim, however, was not repeated in the French editions of Précis. This suggests that in French historiography there exists yet another version of history based on the opinions of Jomini. The second in current historiographic approaches is of fundamental significance to an analysis of Rühle von Lilienstern’s writings. Its origins may be traced back to the comment by Treitschke, which inspired Friedrich Meinecke to assign his student Gertrud Koehler the study of the relation between Rühle von Lilienstern’s book Vom Kriege,45 so much praised by Treitschke, and 37 Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 63, 102–103, 196. 38 Jomini, Précis, 14–16. 39 Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 212. 40 It is worth noting that Rosinski’s text was translated into French; Rosinski, ‘De ­Scharnhorst’, https:// http://www.institut-strategie.fr/strat_76ROSINSKI_2_OK.html (access: 17/8/2020). 41 Rühle von Lilienstern, ‘1. Introduction’, 45 (1832), 353–360; 46 (1832), 359–368; 47 (1832), 369–374. 42 [Jomini], Réplique au général Ruhle de Lilienstern sur la critique qu’il a insérée dans la Gazette de Prusse relativement au Tableau analytique des combinaisons de la guerre du général Jomini (Paris, 1832). 43 Aus den Papieren, 59–68. 44 Jomini, ‘Notiz über die jetzige Theorie des Kriegs und ihre Nutzlichkeit. Vom Kaiserl. Russ. kommandierenden General und General-Adjutant Seiner Majestat des Kaisers, Herrn Baron von Jomini’, zkwg 3, 9 (1836), 233. 45 R. v. L. [Rühle von Lilienstern], Vom Kriege. Ein Fragment aus einer Reihe von Vorlesungen über die Theorie der Kriegskunst (Frankfurt am Main, 1814).

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Elemente der Staatskunst46 by Adam Heinrich Müller. On the basis of this study, Koehler wrote a thesis, which she defended in 1919.47 Müller and Rühle were friends, and the general was inspired by the views of the philosopher.48 It is considered certain that Vom Kriege is an expanded version of Apologie des Krieges,49 published a year earlier by Deutsches Museum, which was a polemic with Immanuel Kant’s concept of perpetual peace. Koehler argued that Rühle was strongly inspired by Müller’s work and drew directly from its text. It was not only a matter of inspiration, of repeating a thought, but of citing entire passages of the work. Anything new in Vom Kriege was, in her opinion, a continuation or development of Müller’s thoughts and could not have emerged without his influence.50 Koehler presented evidence of outright plagiarism51 by juxtaposing selected excerpts from both works.52 Aside from verbatim copying, Koehler was convinced that the whole work was imbued with the spirit of Müller.53 Rühle’s plagiarisms were diverse and often bizarre, e.g., by combining excepts from various volumes of Elemente der Staatskunst.54 Observing from a 20th-century perspective, Koehler considered it to be theft of intellectual property, and although she noted that we cannot judge the past by the standards of today, she added that even back then such practices were not tolerated.55 Above all, she wondered why such a respected individual as Rühle failed to provide sources for his statements. In this context, she put forward the hypothesis that perhaps he wanted to publish the work as a ‘flyer’ for the broad masses serving in the army. On the other hand, she conceded that in such a case the publication would not have included the author’s initials ‘R v. L.’, which were well known and guaranteed that the book would sell. Her hypothesis seems implausible since quoted reference of excerpts from Müller’s work also appeared in Rühle’s other texts,56 especially in Aufsätze über Gegenstände und Ereignisse aus dem Gebiete des Kriegswesens.57 This work is an example of 46 A.H. Müller, Elemente der Staatskunst. Öffentliche Vorlesungen, parts 1–3 (Berlin, 1809). 47 Koehler, Über das Verhältnis. 48 Ibid., 10. 49 Rühl [Rühle von Lilienstern], ‘Apologie des Krieges. Besonders gegen Kant’, Deutsches Museum 2 (1813), 158–173; 3 (1813), 177–192. 50 Koehler, Über das Verhältnis, 18–19. 51 Ibid., 19–30. 52 R. v. L., Vom Kriege, 44–58. 53 Koehler, Über das Verhältnis, 31. 54 Ibid., 39. 55 Ibid., 48. 56 Ibid., 45. 57 R. v. L., Aufsätze über Gegenstände und Ereignisse aus dem Gebiete des Kriegswesens, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1818).

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­ ultiple plagiarisms and even a specific ‘autoplagiarism’, which includes reorm dered excepts from Vom Kriege.58 In considering Rühle’s possible motivations, Koehler notes that the notion of intellectual property was not entirely alien to him, because quotation marks do occasionally appear in his works, implying that the statement was not his own but, unfortunately, not citing the author it came from.59 The German scholar was of the opinion that interpreting the subtitle to Vom Kriege – Ein Fragment aus einer Reihe von Vorlesungen über die Theorie der Kriegskunst – as a reference to Müller’s lectures the general attended in Dresden in 1812 is not corroborated by the nature of the plagiarisms.60 Unable to find a motivation for Rühle’s conduct, Koehler came to the conclusion that the general may have worked with the author’s knowledge and approval, which was possible due to their friendship. Additions appearing in both works, despite being anonymous, are given as having been received from a friend and therefore could have originated from Müller.61 Koehler beyond doubt identified the author of the added excerpts to be Müller.62 Summing up her deliberations, she stated that she was unable to answer the question as to why Müller would have let his friend copy his works. It would not have been a matter of popularising his ideas, as both authors were sufficiently famous for their works to have been noticed.63 Koehler noted a characteristic paradox.64 Treitschke had praised the general’s work being unaware that he was actually praising Müller, whose views he considered unrealistic and harmful.65 Both Treitschke’s mistake and the time that elapsed before Rühle’s plagiarism was raised show that interest in his numerous works was not particularly intense. Langendorf even stated that earlier bibliographies actually ascribed authorship of Apologie des Krieges to Müller.66 It was not until the 1930s that the philosophical assumptions of Rühle’s works started to be examined in detail. Particularly important are the studies of the French Germanist Louis Sauzin,67 an expert and author of a dissertation on the works of Müller.68 On the basis of his 58

Ibid., 45–48, 70–75, 101–153, 179–199; R. v. L., Vom Kriege, 1–90; Koehler, Über das Verhältnis, 45–46; Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder Die „romantische“’, xxxii. 59 Koehler, Über das Verhältnis, 46–47. 60 Ibid., 46, footnote 4. 61 R. v. L., Aufsätze, 154–179; R. v. L., Vom Kriege, 107–132. 62 Koehler, Über das Verhältnis, 48–53. 63 Ibid., 53–54. 64 Ibid., 17–18. 65 Treitschke, Deutsche Geschichte, part 1, 314. 66 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern und seine Apologie’, 218. 67 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder Die „romantische“’, xxxii. 68 Sauzin, Adam-Heinrich Müller (1779–1829): Sa vie et son oeuvre (Paris, 1937).

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knowledge, in 1937 he published comments to Apologie des Krieges,69 which clearly pointed to the affiliation of Rühle’s views with those of Müller, whose philosophy he regarded to be the general’s chief source of inspiration.70 Sauzin considered both men to be representatives of the same intellectual current whose opinions were convergent to such an extent that it would be difficult to accuse either of plagiarising the other.71 In post-war literature, there appeared a dual approach to the same problem. Gerhard Ritter accepted and basically expressed the views of Koehler, though he noted that he did not have access to Sauzin’s work.72 Based on the work of the French scholar, a critical appraisal of Koehler’s conclusions was presented by Langendorf. The Swiss historian considers the French edition of Apologie des Krieges to be superior, and that Sauzin’s comments provide the key to understanding the intellectual affinity between Rühle and Müller.73 Langendorf accused the German scholar of relying on too narrow a range of sources in particular a lack of knowledge of the works of Fichte and of the strictly military contributions of Rühle von Lilienstern; he described Koehler as being poorly informed.74 He attacked her argument that Vom Kriege should be considered as plagiarised and inspired in its entirety by the thoughts of Müller. In accordance with Sauzin, Langendorf considered that both German thinkers were ‘coryphaei’ of the great German romantic movement and their shared interests took on the form of ‘spiritual osmosis’.75 In his opinion, even if Rühle had occasionally cited his friend without accrediting the source, both men were inspired by the ‘unity of opposites’ theory and arriving at identical conclusions was so natural that the Prussian general did not feel responsible for plagiary.76 Though Langendorf’s approach does not seem entirely convincing, it does illustrate the essence of ongoing discussion concerning the nature of Rühle von Lilienstern’s works.77 Regardless of which interpretation concerning the source of Apologie des Krieges we believe to be true, the discussion shows basic difficulties in analysing the theoretical and military contributions of Rühle von Lilienstern. If we assume that Apologie des Krieges only contains the general’s original thoughts, 69 Sauzin, Rühle von Lilienstern. 70 Ibid., 122–174. 71 Ibid., 175–178. 72 Ritter, Staatskunst, 348–349, footnote 6 to p. 129. 73 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder Die „romantische“’, xxxii–xxxiii. 74 Ibid., xxxix. 75 Ibid., xxxix–xl; Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern und seine Apologie’, 218. 76 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder Die „romantische“’, li, footnote 84. 77 B. Koehler, Ästhetik der Politik: Adam Müller u. d. politische Romantik (Stuttgart, 1980), 135–147.

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it cannot be denied that the contents of this work reappeared unchanged in subsequent works, especially Vom Kriege and Aufsätze über Gegenstände. The last of these is a specific compilation of Rühle’s various texts and extracts from the works of other authors.78 Such a concoction is not conducive to the clarity of argument, which is further obfuscated by the general’s writing style. Later author’s favourably disposed to Rühle’s work have explained that the complex style reflects a spiritual greatness and wealth of interests.79 Nonetheless, his works, full of metaphors, digressions, and various abstract considerations, are simply difficult to read. For this reason Hagemann felt that many key elements literally slipped through Rühle’s fingers.80 Of all the general’s texts, only articles published in Neue Militärische Zeitschrift (NMZ) in the years 1811–1813 are clearly and concisely written.81 Nevertheless, problems with style are present not only in Apologie des Krieges and its later developments, but arguably his most important military text, Handbuch. The circumstances of how it was written provides information about the potential problems with its analysis. According to what Rühle himself announced in mwb,82 the initial intention was to produce a revised version of the practical handbook for officers published by Scharnhorst in 1792.83 A value of this popular publication was its pocket-size format. It was to provide in the simplest way possible, information on practical aspects of military service for lower-ranking officers and staff. On the eve of campaign, Scharnhorst assigned Rühle to revise the handbook to take into account changes in the art of warfare that had emerged since the outbreak of revolutionary wars. Due to subsequent wars, however, work on the handbook was suspended and Rühle did not return to it until after the fall of Napoleon. Bearing in mind the changes affecting the art of war during the anti-French campaign, Rühle decided revising Scharnhorst’s handbook and applying it to the realities of the Prussian army was no longer practical, and instead undertook to write a new book, retaining only the original intention that it was for officers. In his opinion, Scharnhorst’s handbook, written in the late 18th century, could not be relevant to the modern-day army. The u ­ nderlying p ­ rinciple

78

[Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 174–175; Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder Die „romantische“’, xxxii. 79 Ibid., 173; Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 27–31. 80 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 56. 81 R. [Rühle von Lilienstern], ‘Taktik, Strategie, Kriegswissenschaft, Kriegskunst’, Neue Militärische Zeitschrift (NMZ) 3 (1811), 52–71; R. ‘Vom Kriege und vom der Kriegskunst’, nmz 1 (1813), 54–74; R., ‘Von Operationsplanen’, nmz 12 (1812), 13–35. 82 R. v. L., ‘Ankündigung’, 70–71. 83 Scharnhorst, Militairisches Taschenbuch.

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of the original handbook was to provide essential information for service in the field as concisely as possible. For convenience, scientific d­ escriptions were limited to the bare minimum, most often in the form of simple instructions and maxims on how officers should carry out their duties in wartime. Moreover, the original illustrated its rules of conduct with practical examples and added an appendix of useful comments. Rühle questioned the relevance of all these features. In his opinion, for the handbook to be relevant one had either to sacrifice its concise character or the wealth of possible concepts and alternative examples. Naturally, he chose to sacrifice the former and instead divided the subjects covered in Scharnhorst’s original book into three major parts. The first was to be theoretical and include a list of warfare principles and maxims, as well as their application in the service of lower-ranking officers, drawing the reader’s attention to problems that should be independently studied, improving the reader’s perception and assessment of military issues and the ability to learn from one’s own experiences and those of others in order to attain higher military ranks. The second part was to be a proper textbook, containing an organised collection of comments, notes, mathematical formulas, ratios, tables, elements of practical geometry, therefore easily accessible theoretical elements for use in everyday service. The third part was to include a critical discussion of cases of military tactics, and also sketches of instructions and ordinances for specific military operations, as well as examples from various epochs. Although Rühle claimed that he was basing his writing on Scharnhorst’s work, in fact he went far beyond the original book. From a textbook publication it turned into a three-part work, of which only the first part was published, albeit in two volumes. The 1817–1818 Handbuch constitutes only the theoretical part of the planned publication and is therefore unfinished. Rühle lacked the strength to complete the task alone. This had a negative effect which is reflected in the work. Though, according to Aus den Papieren der Familie von Schleinitz, the author was admirably self-critical and open to the comments and criticisms of others.84 Max Lehmann’s observation was that a simple instruction booklet for officers in the hands of the philosophising general turned into an academic thesis replete with complex reflections.85 Announcing the first part of his work in mwb, Rühle still maintained that the aim of the book was to be of use in practical service.86 Unfortunately, the contents in no way 84 Aus den Papieren, 179–180. 85 Lehmann, Scharnhorst, part 1: Bis zum Tilsiter Frieden (Leipzig, 1886), 46–47. 86 R. v. L., ‘Die erste Abteilung des in Nro 36. des Militair-Wochenblattes angekündigten: Handbuch für den Offizier zur Belehrung im Frieden und zum Gebrauch im Felde, (Berlin, G. Reimer)’, mwb 2, 68 (1817), 329–330.

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applies to the professed goal. Despite the theoretically logical arrangement, the work is hardly ordered or consistent. One may doubt even whether some of the solutions concern military tactics. Even in his enthusiastic appraisal, Gerwien noted its potential drawbacks, above all the amount of text and accumulation of various considerations, queries, and references which obscured the perception of certain issues. The author’s penchant for detail hindered its influence on young officers. A full understanding of his arguments required a comprehensive education. Rühle’s attempt to present his ideas in their entirety resulted in a number of ambitious treatises. According to Rühle’s biographer, theoretical considerations were reduced to their minimum in favour of the general’s professed aim of providing practical guidelines. Despite reservations, the biographer still considered it to be an outstanding and widely appreciated work in the field of military tactics. With this book Rühle initiated a breakthrough in the perception of all phenomena from the view of potential moral and combinational elements of battles, which until then had been analysed solely as a matter of the form and organisation of forces. Thus a trend was begun that was not only to inspire future classic military tacticians (Carl von Decker, Heinrich von Brandt and Karl von Pönitz), but would ultimately be defined by the work of Clausewitz. Handbuch defined fully and emphatically the general’s point of view on tactics, as later Clausewitz’s views on strategy were to be defined. Gerwien regretted that Rühle never managed to write a book on military strategy, to which he felt the general was predisposed.87 The image of the classic authority on tactics was often repeated, especially in the 1870s,88 which underlines Rühle’s role in Prussian military thought in the first half of that century. Flaws in Rühle von Lilienstern’s written works do not necessarily concern his thoughts on strategy. His views on this matterwould be expounded in Apologie des Krieges. All his written works had been published by 1818, by which time he certainly was guaranteed a widespread response. This particularly concerns Handbuch, persistently promoted in mwb, all the more so because Rühle was one of its editor. The works were not actually reviewed in any of the periodicals, but in the 1820s and 30s they were routinely hailed as the flagship works of the post-Napoleonic era89 and often cited. There are sufficient premises to consider Rühle’s views on strategy of key importance in attempting to portray Prussian military thought in the years 1815–1830. Insights are provided 87 [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 171–174. 88 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 31; [Meerheimb], ‘Ueber Militair-Bildung’, 34. 89 Vom Kriege and Handbuch: Hoyer, Litteratur, 443; Handbuch: Rumpf, Allgemeine, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1824), 170.

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by Günther Brüning in his dissertation on the development of Austrian ­military thought in the first half of the 19th century.90 In discussing the influence of Rühle von Lilienstern on new ideas in Austria,91 he carried out extensive research into the general’s writings, including, in addition to Handbuch, articles published in NMZ. However, due to the completely different subject of the dissertation, his analysis regarding Rühle cannot be considered exhaustive. Of considerably greater usefulness are efforts undertaken by Langendorf, who with regard to Rühle von Lilienstern presented eight of his main assumptions: inability to create an a priori science of war, treating warfare as a domain of art, a close and vital link between war and politics, treating any attempt to grant absolute priority to defensive and offensive strategies as an example of dogmatism, that the objective of the art of war was to use enough force to overpower the enemy, considering mechanistic-deterministic representations of relations between forces to be futile because even weaker forces can be victorious, the army is worth as much as the state it is supposed to defend, and that astanding army, though expensive when maintained in large numbers and becoming a state within the state should be preserved in its late 18th-century form.92 Langendorf’s list synthetically reflects the essence of Rühle von Lilienstern’s observations. A closer examination of these ideas, however, is required and needs further explanation, with added reflections regarding military strategy. The most strongly represented question in Rühle von Lilienstern’s philosophical considerations was the ontology of war. Rühle believed war and peace to be permanent and cyclically. Universal peace and the creation of a Universalstaat were in his opinion unattainable,93 and therefore he rejected Kant’s demands to eradicate war in the name of ethics. According to Rühle, the idea was a pipe dream because law cannot be enforced without resorting to violence.94 Reason told him that one cannot categorically rule out the necessity of war just as one cannot categorically rule out the necessity of peace.95 Regardless of whether or not these reflections were original, Rühle von Lilienstern clearly supported the view of the indispensability of waging wars as a function of the state. It stemmed from the natural and inalienable aspirations of 90 Brüning, Militär-Strategie. 91 Ibid., 214–228. 92 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern und seine Apologie’, 215–216. 93 Rühl, ‘Apologie des Krieges’, 179–183. 94 Ibid.,185–188. 95 ‘Der Vernunft kann weder kategorisch gebieten: es soll überhaupt kein Krieg, noch: es soll überhaupt kein Friede seyn, sondern hypothetisch: es soll kein anderer Krieg und kein anderer Friede seyn, als solche, die vom ächten Geiste rechtlichen Strebens durchdrungen sind’; ibid., 192.

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­ umankind regardless of what social organisation it adopted. The proposals of h Immanuel Kant and other philosophers of his ilk had, in Rühle’s opinion, no connection with reality.96 However, as Ritter rightly noted, Rühle’s concept was not a simple apology of wars, which had their purposes but also limitations.97 Already in 1812, in Von Operationsplanen, he states that war was the greatest undertaking of every nation, yet when two civilized nations fight, the goal should not be for one side to annihilate the other (Ausrottung), but for the victor to impose his will on the vanquished.98 In Handbuch, he states that every war had a purpose and a cause determining its character and how it was conducted. Individual operations had military goals, but the war as a whole had a political goal, taking into account internal and external relations of the nation. All military operations needed to serve that goal. The success of a military operation could not be perceived as the goal of war but as the means by which that goal was to be achieved, and though it might not have been to the liking of the generals, they had to consider political consequences. The objectives of military operations could be diverse. In a debate with Joseph Rogniat, he argued that the goal might be peace. This was because some states used peace as a convenient interlude in their constant conduct of war. Nonetheless, victory did not always have to lead to the destruction of the opponent, as that was not in itself the goal of the state.99 No other idea put forward by Rühle von Lilienstern brought him as much renown among later scholars as his concept of the political nature of war. Hagemann stated that Rühle had presaged the ideas expressed in Clausewitz’s Vom Kriege, albeit in a somewhat less coherent manner.100 Moreover, Hagemann, argued that no one prior to Clausewitz had stressed as emphatically as Rühle the political nature of war, which underlined the common core of their views, namely the teachings of Scharnhorst.101 Brüning was of a similar opinion.102 Heuser considered it ironic that Clausewitz, who after all must have known the writings of his ‘poorly known’103 colleague from aks, was to gain credit for determining the relationship between the spheres of politics and war.104 It is difficult to assess the impact of Rühle’s work on Clausewitz’s subsequent writings, nevertheless it shows that views 96 Cf. Heuser, ‘Rühle’, 215. 97 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 370–371, footnote 5 on 211. 98 R., ‘Von Operationsplanen’, 15. 99 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1818), 8–11. 100 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 56. 101 Ibid., 63. 102 Brüning, Militär-Strategie, 220–221. 103 Heuser, ‘Small Wars’, 145. 104 Heuser, The Evolution, 13–15, 139; Heuser, Reading, 30–31, 45; Heuser, ‘Rühle’, 215–216.

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such as his on the relationship between politics and war were already present in Prussian military thought long before 1832. A somewhat different view in this matter was held by Ritter. Although in his opinion a comparison of the views of Massenbach, Scharnhorst, Rühle, and Clausewitz showed that such views were rooted in 18th-century philosophy,105 Rühle was much closer to the war cabinet ideas of the ancien regime than Clausewitz with his fascination with ‘absolute war’. Ritter considered Clausewitz’s ideas to be ­one-dimensional, for they did not take into sufficiently account the necessity of internal preparations for war, especially with regard to economic issues and education, both of which played an important role in the concepts of Rühle von Lilienstern.106 Contemporary war, in Rühle’s opinion, had undergone fundamental changes resulting from the emergence of new principles of warfare. He disagreed with the opinion that the current state of affairs only occurred by chance and would inevitably be followed by a return to the old methods. A decisive role was played by the political crisis that since the Seven Years’ War had persisted in the major powers, as well as uninterrupted clashes between nations that necessitated arming the masses. For decades thinkers of the Enlightenment had promoted the ideal of a soldier, which in fact was caricature. ­Square-bashing and discipline were the glue that held the military organisation together with the resulting military service experience and routine, two aspects of the contemporary military lifestyle that Rühle held in particular contempt. Recent war experiences had demonstrated the ineffectiveness of pitching passive troops commanded by strict, ignorant, and conceited pedants against forces imbued with courage, ethical values, willpower, and a valiant spirit. Pure discipline stood no chance against enthusiasm, and routine was no match against genius and strength of character. Thus the finest knights of Prussia and Austria were defeated by sans-culottes and conscripts, while the invincible Guard and Napoleon’s marshals yielded to the Prussian Landwehr.107 His views on the instructive aspect of preparing for war brought Rühle closer to the opinions of Boyen and Grolman. Similar to them, he saw the need for permanent moral and spiritual preparation of subjects for war. Likewise his opinions on the ­organisation of armed forces were similar to those of Boyen, though not ­necessarily with regard to permanent forces. Brüning was of the opinion that one of the chief aims of Rühle’s work was to abolish the division between the military and civilian spheres.108 This aspect of the general’s musings was most 105 Ritter, Staatskunst, vol. 1, 210–211. 106 Ibid., 370–371, footnote 5 on 211. 107 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 431–432. 108 Brüning, Militär-Strategie, 218.

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s­ trongly emphasised by Langendorf, who believed that Rühle while opposed the ­18th-century form of the standing army, felt that it could be reformed and adapted to the modern day.109 Permanent forces, in his opinion, were the disease of the current military system, evidence of an institution that did not correspond to the realities of the modern state. He felt that a reorganisation of the state should always mean a reorganisation of the army and vice versa, a state cannot be restructured without changes in the army. Rühle envisaged the armed forces comprising a standing army, the Landwehr, and Landsturm. The task of the standing army was to be prepared for action in emergencies; it was the permanently ready core of the armed forces, capably of swiftly executing actions and ending conflict. It was to be comprised of fully trained professionals. In peacetime the troops were to undergo training and education, man fortresses, and provide training to Landwehr recruits. These forces had to be ready to march within 24 hours of receiving an order, therefore they were always to be mobilised and armed. They had to fully master the art of war in theory and practice. The task of the Landwehr was to muster the largest possible number of people fit to fight with the lowest detriment to the peacetime economy. In the event of war, these troops were to be able to join their standards as quickly as possible and act in coordination with the standing army. In peacetime, these troops were periodically obliged to serve in units supporting the regular army. The Landsturm encompassed all those who were able to bear arms and support or fill army ranks. Its tasks were limited to combating guerrillas and marauders, observing the enemy, manning garrisons, performing policing duties, guarding warehouses, and such.110 The concepts of the division of tasks and of adding an educational role to the army put Rühle in the close circle of Prussian army reformers. The specificity of his stance, however, was a consistent emphasis on the need to maintain a standing army as a guarantee that the state would not be destroyed when the enemy strikes.111 This was decidedly different from the views of Boyen, who placed particular stress on developing the Landwehr and Landsturm, which were expected to achieve success even on a strategic scale. Rühle, by contrast, treated the professional army as the vital part of the system without which the armed forces would merely be a mass incapable of effective action. This stance likely won him favour among the more conservative Prussian generals. Rühle considered war to be a domain of art. Brüning even argued that all of the general’s works are permeated with the notion that war was the first of all 109 Langendorf, ‘Rühle von Lilienstern oder Die „romantische“’, xxxvi–xxxviii. 110 R. v. L., Aufsätze, 208–215. 111 Ibid., 272–321.

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arts.112 The art of war, in the broadest sense including all elements necessary to prepare and conduct a war, could be divided into peacetime art and wartime art. The ultimate result of both was the full and permanent preparation of the nation and state to the threat of war. Many military authors defined war solely as a science (Wissenschaft), solely as an art (Kunst), or solely as a craft (Handwerk). As a consequence, presentations were often far removed from real problems, too complicated and generally incoherent. References to art in these presentations could be perceived in two ways, either as the opposite of science or as the opposite of craft. Common knowledge was to science as craft was to art. Rühle contrasted incidental knowledge with systematic and ordered scientific knowledge. Common activities were often carried out without understanding of their purpose, without linking them with an overall goal. Conversely, art selected appropriate means towards a specified goal. Every work of art contained an element of science or at least the scientific theory of art. Therefore war was not in itself a science but an art, whereas the concepts of the science of war (Kriegswissenschaft) and the theory of the art of war (Theorie der Kriegskunst) could be perceived as one and the same.113 Art and craft, in turn, were two types of practice or human activity for the achievement of a concrete goal. The distinction between them was in the type and nature of their making, as well as the manner in which the goal was achieved. The craftsman understood what he was doing simply, only knowing the things that produced a predetermined result. He did not need real knowledge or a deeper understanding of what he was doing. Therefore Rühle considered all that was carried out in a mechanical fashion to be craft. For him, art was something more, something related to knowledge and to a practical mission. It required spiritual strength – the virtuosity of developed talent, tact, an instinctive sense of law, genius unconstrained by routine, but also common sense and purely practical knowledge. Actions that contributed to the growth of human spiritual, physical, and moral potential he considered artistic. Every art, in his opinion, had a mechanical or technical aspect, as well as a scientific one. For an ordinary soldier, war could be a limited craft, but an officer had to aspire to understand its higher forms.114 In this respect, war was a practical art which served to achieve social goals, not purely aesthetic ones, whose the only objective was beauty. War could be seen as a drama, as a sad tragedy perhaps, but above all it was the greatest of all activities. Using this metaphor, war can be perceived as the clash of two parties,

112 Brüning, Militär-Strategie, 218. 113 R. v. L., Vom Kriege, 81–86. 114 Ibid., 86–89.

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two opposing potentials affecting the course of events, creating a theatre of war.115 Despite his clear point of view, Rühle was sceptical about attempts to define the theory of the art of war. It would be as hard, in his opinion, to sum up the multifaceted process of life and the abundance of relations that resulted from it. A definition should be provided by a comprehensive presentation of theory. No author had yet described war as an art, and in Rühle’s view derisible were all scientific forms of the theory of war in which it was impossible to find indications to understand concepts such as ‘the art of war’ and ‘theory’. Most writers either simply omitted explanations, or treated the matter with far too great detail.116 According to Rühle, ‘The art of war in its broadest terms is the essence of what is required for exemplary realisation both in the conduct of war as in the constant preparation for it. Therefore, the theory of the art of war may be understood as the codified, i.e. systematically ordered in accordance with an idea or its underlying principle, compilation of all the laws and knowledge essential for the preparation and handling of war’.117 This approach was, of course, a logical continuation of his deliberations regarding the external and internal aspects of the art of running the state. The general considered all other ideas of dividing the art of war to be formulaic and of little use. In considering various ways of writing a definition, he warned against an excessively strict division into the art of war in peacetime and in wartime. In his view, this posed the threat of destroying the unity and internal ties of the art of war. Rühle believed it was better to draw distinctions between the philosophy of war (Kriegsphiloposphie) and the didactics of war (Kriegsdidaktik). In the first case, he distinguished reasoned judgments (Raisonnement) of the war and their underlying principles, which apply to the preparation and conducting of war. Formal philosophy studied how far military science, history, and war theory could be considered as a means of discovery or basis for action. He divided the material philosophy of war into the metaphysics of war, explaining all the maxims and principles essential for the preparation and conducting of wars, and military criticism, i.e., the study of how implemented or planned ordinances or operations complied with common sense and how much should be invested to 115 Ibid., 89–91. 116 Ibid., 75–79. 117 ‘Die Kriegskunst in ihrer weitesten Beziehung ist der Inbegriff alles dessen, was zur exemplarischen Verwirklichung, sowohl der Kriegführung selbst, als der steten Bereitschaft zum Kriege wesentlich erfordert wird. Und unter Theorie der Kriegskunst hätte man sonach zu verstehen: eines gesetzlich d.h. nach irgend einer Idee oder einem zur Grunde liegenden Prinzipe systematisch-geordnete Zusammenstellung aller zur Kriegführung und Kriegsbereitschaft erforderlichen Grundgesetze und Kenntnisse’; ibid., 79.

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r­ ealise these goals. Didactics included knowledge essential for the teaching of the art of war, and therefore the whole of military science (Kriegswissenschaften): description of terrain, the art of artillery, the art of fortification, tactics, and logistics. Here, the terms ‘art’ and ‘science’ were used interchangeably. The didactics of war he described in the style of a military encyclopaedia, providing knowledge on issues in their entirety rather than giving detail of a single doctrine. Nevertheless, because the material was inherently vast, it was necessary to arrange and order them for the purposes of war.118 In one of his earlier works, Rühle stated that Kriegswissenschaften comprised everything that could be taught about war. These were the issues of creating the tools for action, the rules for deploying an army in the various conditions of war in order to achieve the goals of war. The issues had to be closely related. The issue of putting out and training an army was a matter of pure tactics (reine Taktik); teaching how to use a trained army was applied tactics (angewandte Taktik). Teaching how to achieve the goals of war was, in turn, defined as the science of command (Felherrnwissenschaft) or strategy.119 Rühle defined strategy as an action to achieve the goal of a war.120 Despite this, he rejected definitions distinguishing between spheres of strategy and tactics. In his opinion, both were connected like the body and the soul – the tactician should be a strategist and the strategist should be a tactician.121 It is only after mastering the rules of tactics that one could go on to Feldherrwissenschaften. The strategist, of course, made more geographical assessments, taking greater interest in mountain ranges, roads, rivers, and borders, as well as the nature of the enemy, their moral and physical qualities, enemy bases, and operational lines. He assessed the nature of necessary actions, the decision of fortresses to be built,122 and the arcana of tactics he would be unable to effectively inact. The concepts of strategy and tactics were inextricably linked. Both words originated from the Greek, but their understanding varied with time. Of the two, using the word ‘tactics’ as a term had a longer history. Until the Seven Years’ War and the period of French dominance, military literature distinguished only three types of military knowledge (Kriegswisse): artillery, fortifications, and tactics. The first two were limited by nature. The last, in accordance with the principles of mathematics, was divided into pure and applied. Pure tactics were the essence of the art of war, taught on the drill ground, and 118 119 120 121 122

Ibid., 79–81. R., ‘Taktik’, 57–58. Ibid., 55. Ibid., 70–71. Ibid., 67–70.

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all that could not be taught or drilled into the soldier belonged to applied tactics. The more that German literature, based on general philosophy, began to supplant the French school, the more obvious it became that the Kriegswissenschaften division was inadequate. Anyone who took up a pen felt he was a reformer and tried to classify these concepts. The observation that tasks for troops came from the commander, who had a decisive influence on how they were carried out provoked an opposition to tactics (or Truppenkunst) in favour of Feldherrkunst, also from the Greek as strategy. Apart from the terms, it was more difficult to create consistent rules and theories for them. According to Rühle, it was impossible to create a definition that would not be rejected for logical or military reasons. Many concepts were dissected, divided into higher and lower tactics, higher and lower strategies. The concepts, however, were never fully defined.123 Rühle consistently criticised124 approaches to this problem, including the ideas of Bülow,125 his subordinate August Wagner,126 and Decker in his study of Rogniat’s theory.127 He particularly objected to the absurd approach of Bülow, which intended to be logical but in reality obscured perception of the issue. This was because the basic criterion was the threat of enemy attack, staying in sight and seeing the enemy firing a cannon.128 All approaches were too complex. They therefore did not fulfil the criteria of a definition; they did not explain anything using a minimal number of words.129 In discussing various cases, Rühle came to the conclusion that the same maxims applied to both strategy and tactics. He became sceptical, thetefore, whether coherent definitions could be formulated, or whether they were even necessary.130 The popularity of investigations into the matter resulted, in his opinion, from an imaginary conflict between strategists and tacticians. Rühle considered it a mistake to overvalue the role of strategists because, in his opinion, not all that was decisive in war depended on them. Tacticians were just as important, and, conversely, it was sometimes the strategists who performed heroic feats during the war.131 If war was considered a large-scale battle, so too a 123 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 87–89. 124 Ibid., 90–109; R., ‘Taktik’, 59–60. 125 A.H.D. von Bülow, Lehrsätze des Neuern Krieges oder reine und angewandte Strategie aus dem Geiste des neuern Kriegssystems hergeleitet (Berlin, 1805), 1–9. See Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie, 33, 171–172. 126 [Wagner], Grundzüge, xiii–xiv, 1–7. 127 This subject will be discussed in greater detail in the next chapter. 128 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 298–99. 129 Ibid., 96–97. 130 Ibid., 104. 131 Ibid., 111–114.

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battle could be perceived as a small-scale war. This meant that the largest operation, which was war, did not simply consist of consecutive clashes but that the art of war was governed by the entire army and forces of the state proceed as would an officer commanding troops or the swordsman commanding his body and weapon. This, in the general’s opinion, was a principle wherein conducting a battle must bear in mind its relation to war, and war refer to the rules and maxims of battles or, in a broad sense, swordsmanship.132 It was said that you had to be born a commander; Rühle, however, believed this was just a figure of speech. Every practical activity required not only talent, but also the development of skills.133 Strategy was a purely intellectual task. Applied tactics combined intellectual and physical tasks, whereas pure tactics were exclusively physical, like the mechanisms in a machine. In all three, however, art and science were complementary. The highest level of skills, more due to nature than training, was called genius. Geniuses appeared in all the arts, but they needed time and practice to develop. Raphael had to learn how to use a brush, just as Julius Caesar had to learn how to use weapons. Art, therefore, required genius and practice, whereas science required talent and diligence. A genius was able to shape art without science, but science without genius was not able to improve art. Art had existed earlier, and it was from art that science developed. That is why the Kriegswissenschaften, to which he included strategy, could never produce a supreme commander. Admittedly they taught how one should act, but they could not define rules for each instance. The Kriegswissenschaften, therefore, did not create Feldherrkunst, but only supported it.134 The theory of the art of war involved systematically compiling abstract rules based on past experiences of war supported by a rich collection of particularised examples that made up a history of war. A study of the art of war meant learning how to absorb and understand these abstract rules in order to be able to quickly assess their applicability in any given situation and consider them as the norm in other situations. Studying the history of war meant learning cause and effect in specific examples with the ability to construct rules for individual and similar cases. Therefore, he perceived theory and history as opposing approaches: sometimes it was more difficult to apply an abstract rule to a given case, at other times to derive a rule form a given case. Rühle believed that mathematics could not apply to the variable conditions of war. Abstract rules and maxims could not, in his opinion, be a recipe for conducting military operations. For him, the mindless fulfilment of rules was pointless. For others, 132 Ibid., vol. 1 (Berlin, 1817), 435. 133 Ibid., vol. 2, 21–22. See Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie, 259. 134 R., ‘Taktik’, 60–62.

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however, it was convenient to have the art of war bound in a portable, alphabetically ordered lexicon that could be referred to in any place and time; they failed to appreciate that real knowledge and expertise did not require rules. The decisive factor in the field was common sense. A general believe existed that certain people by nature, without any calculation, were able to assess a moment of action. History, however, has shown that great geniuses usually had considerable experience and knowledge.135 Brüning thought that combating geometric and geographic ways of perceiving war leading themes in Rühle’s writing,136 that in the general’s opinion, moral factors were the more important, followed by physical and intellectual ones.137 Rühle considered the main goal of war between civilized nations was to paralyse or weaken the other side’s armed forces.138 Perceiving war as an instrument of politics, according to Heuser, resulted from the conviction that the losing side is the one that cannot realise its goals regardless of the number of battles it may have won.139 War was the reciprocal interaction of physical and intellectual forces, and therefore the effect of every clash had to be concomitant. This, according to the general, explains why the Battle of Waterloo had such far-reaching consequences, while the result of the Battle of ­Preußisch-Eylau was so insignificant. In war, the physical overpowering of the enemy did not always lead to its ultimate defeat.140 Hence, battle was not the only means of achieving victories. Generally the enemy’s forces could be effectively weakened in battle or by taking control of their sources of supply that was its home territory and population. In his opinion, both measures should be interrelated, because inflicting damage in battle would be of little use if the enemy still had the means to rebuild their military potential. Preparation of an operational plan therefore required taking into account two things: the enemy forces and the enemy’s territory, of which the first was mobile and changeable and the second stationary.141 Generally, wars could be either direct or indirect. One was conducted by brute force, the other by art, intelligence, and finding a solution without having to fight.142 Indirect war most often took the form of attrition or demonstration.143 The targets of direct operations were always 135 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 1, 438–444. 136 Brüning, Militär-Strategie, 218. 137 R., ‘Taktik’, 53. 138 R., ‘Von Operationsplanen’, 15. 139 Heuser, The Evolution, 142. 140 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 1, 101–102. 141 R., ‘Von Operationsplanen’, 15–16. 142 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 138–141. 143 Ibid., 141–145.

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e­ nemy forces. The potential targets of indirect operations were numerous, primarily those serving to supply and support the enemy (transport, warehouses, fortresses). The enemy army could also be effected by avoiding battle if subjected to forced marches, inclement weather, diseases or hunger, all that would diminish its physical ability to act. Cutting enemy lines of communication and diplomatic activity were also to be included in the indirect warfare arsenal. All forms and relations appearing as part of direct actions, according to Rühle, were repeated in indirect actions. Here too, the sides were in conflict, and what was beneficial to one was detrimental to the other.144 In analysing the issue of the object of war (Kriegsobjekt) and the object of operation (Operationsobjekt), Rühle divided wars into defensive and offensive, depending on desired outcomes. Here, there were four possible Kriegsobjekt variants. With the exception of mere demonstrations, the general believed that wars always took on the form of armed conflict to achieve victory. All a side’s forces, including armed forces and all that had a physical aspect, had a double object of operation (doppeltes Objekt des Operations) or a double object of attack (doppelten Gegenstand des Angriffs). The direct object was the armed forces (direktes Operationsobjekt) and the indirect object was the enemy’s reinforcements and supplies (indirektes Operationsobjekt). According to this principle, the object of defence, the twofold subject of operation (zweifaches Subjekt der Operationen), comprised the armed forces (direktes Operationssubjekt) and the means of their replenishment (indirektes Operationssobjekt). Therefore, every war consisted of various operations: the direct attack of enemy forces, direct defence against the attack, the indirect attack of supplies by enemy forces, and the protection of supplies against enemy attack by concealment or actual defence. The variants of these general assumptions were immeasurable and did not necessarily have to be military. Indeed, a decisive role could be played by diplomacy, and every military plan should be based on political principles. The plan was also modified by the actions of the enemy. Not rules and regulations but maxims and circumstances were decisive in every case.145 In the case of an offensive plan, of key importance was the selection of a main line of operation. The longer the border between two states, the greater the number of possible variants. In this situation, Rühle was of the opinion that geometric and pedantic calculations were pointless. The shortest line leading straight to the centre of the hostile state and therefore the best protected should be chosen. Protection of  the wings by detached forces, of course, depended on the properties of the  theatre of war. Apart from designating these elements, points for the 144 Ibid., 145–148. See also Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie, 77–80. 145 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 263–264; R. v. L., Aufsätze, 243–246.

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c­ oncentration of troops and supplies as well as stages for the first phase of the operation, Rühle saw no point in discussing anything else. He believed the plan of a great conquest could be put on a scrap of paper, or less if you had the talent of Alexander the Great. Defeat of the enemy could only be achieved by destroying its forces and cutting off its supplies, and therefore the objective of the first operations was always to fight a battle and then take over the enemy’s material base. Both were indispensable for an ultimate triumph. A defeated enemy could easily recover strength if not cut off from its supplies, and, conversely, it would not be possible to take over enemy supplies without first destroying the enemy’s forces.146 According to Brüning, this opinion chimed perfectly with the theory proposed by Archduke Charles,147 a figure associated in historiography with the ideas of the ancien regime. In creating a defence plan, one had to take into account potential enemy movements, positions, and tactics. In the first case, it was necessary to know one’s country so as to be able to predict the way the enemy would advance. This knowledge allowed for the concentration of forces in appropriate places, so as to threaten the rear and flanks of the invading army. After selecting the main lines of operation, it was necessary to assess the possibility of using the terrain for defensive purposes and the need to build fortifications. Tactics in this case meant avoiding battles but ceding each section of territory only after heavy resistance and forcing the enemy to take up disadvantageous positions. Good knowledge of the terrain was necessary as an indicator of potential enemy actions, though it could not fully predict what an enemy would actually chose.148 Rühle considered a thorough knowledge of the terrain, as well as material and non-material conditions, to be the basis for creating operational plans.149 He advised, however, against creating a detailed action plan in peacetime. For security reasons, the plan should be in the commander’s head, and his subordinates should only know what was necessary at their level of command. The number of potential combinations of actions the enemy could take was too great for an accurate prediction of a campaign before it began. Therefore, although preparation and planning were essential, it was nonsensical to assume one could prepare for every eventuality.150 Whether war should be conducted in an offensive or defensive manner was decided by circumstances. One could not generally determine which forms of 146 R., ‘Von Operationsplanen’, 17–23. 147 Brüning, Militär-Strategie, 225–226. 148 R., ‘Von Operationsplanen’, 24. 149 Ibid., 33. 150 Ibid., 30–31.

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action was more rational. Furthermore, wars were rarely conducted in only one way. Usually a side fought for a time defensively and then offensively, or at the same time some units were defending a part of the country while other units were attacking in another part. Both types of action could be equally effective. Under the influence of the Napoleonic Wars, the offensive was almost universally considered to be the key to waging war, whereas defensive actions were considered dangerous. According to Rühle, this opinion was held by many military authors, including Wagner,151 who treated defence as a forced state, contrary to the nature of war, and felt all successful operations had to be offensive, as only they allowed for the achievement of the basic goal of the fastest conclusion to a campaign.152 Such views, however, resulted from misinterpretation. Arguments against defence and for attack were one-sided, partly based on real historical accounts, but also on unclear views about war. Charges against defence were threefold. Firstly, it lacked moral value, had a negative effect on valour, left the men disinherited, undecided, and lethargic. Secondly, it was considered to be a passive state that led to no positive results, and thart on the contrary was annihilating in its duration. Finally, through defensive actions one lost advantages that were the basis of offensive. The defending side was considered to be shackling itself, allowing the enemy to be its master and control the operation.153 Rühle rejected each of these arguments. In the first case, he stated that the aim of attacking was to force and dislodge, the aim of defending was to resist and retain safe positions. One, however, needed to distinguish intention. Defence could be a ploy to force the other side to act, just as attacking could be an attempt to prevent the other side from attacking. Both forms acted against each other. If the aim of the war was purely to defend, it would be difficult to feel the need for an offensive. However, defence of one’s country should not be associated with a decline in valour. At the same time, forcing an offensive at the expense of defence in the event of an enemy attack would induce feeling of doubt and resignation. One can see the chance of defeating the enemy in both forms of combat.154 Rühle considered the second accusation as a misunderstanding resulting from thinking in terms of the old style of warfare. Standing armies usually used positional defence to the loss of the advantages of movement and manoeuvre. Developments in the thinking about defence, however, made ideas more efficient. Distinctions started being made between stricte and aktive Defensiv. Stricte or, in the narrow sense, strenge 151 R. v. L., Aufsätze, 250. 152 [Wagner], Grundzüge, 85–86. 153 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 114–116. 154 Ibid., 116–124.

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Defensiv was limited to thwarting an enemy attack without responding in kind. Defence, however, was something more than simple resistance. On the battlefield, both sides were equal and both equally determined to win. Defence and attack were intertwined states in wartime, fluently passing from one to the other. Hence, speaking about only being defence was a mistake.155 That the general held such views, Hagemann156 and Brüning157 saw a strong influence of the ideas of Scharnhorst. Limiting the meaning of defence to the avoidance of conflict was wrong; that form of action could in certain situations be beneficial, providing time to gather forces, to discipline them, wait for the season to pass, or allowing the passage of time to weaken the enemy. Another mistake, in his opinion, was the belief that defence could only be conducted in an offensive manner. This was yet another senseless maxim. Defence and attack were as natural a situation for wartime as war and peace for the state. Rühle illustrated this point with the example of a master fencer who is sometimes on the defensive to deceive his opponent into making a mistake. Every parry is followed by a counterthrust, and it is the fencer’s positioning and skill that decides the ultimate outcome. The fencer needs also to be able to defend well. On the same basis, in war, defence and attack were to be merged into one operation. As a rule, there was no pure offensive or pure defence; there were no purely offensive operations without defensive measures, or operations that did not assume a defensive goal; there was no effective defence operation without offensive measures or indirect offensive goals; the offensive and defensive were mutually dependent opposites, attacking could only be learned from the art of defence and vice versa. All this, in the general’s opinion, made it difficult to separate strategy from tactics.158 With regard to the last of the three arguments, Rühle rejected the notion that an offensive always guaranteed an advantage. As a rule, one needed to identify the enemy’s positions and intentions, and it was generally defence that provided greater possibilities for this. It also allowed for a better familiarisation with the terrain in current and future conflict. Thus it allowed for making changes that could significantly affect the direction of attack. Sometimes it was better to let the enemy take the initiative, especially if one was aware that on account of poor training, low quality officers, or low morale, one’s own forces might not survive confrontation. The conviction that having the advantage always leads to offensive actions was equally wrong. It was the ultimate aim of the war that decided the type of action that 155 Ibid., 124–126. 156 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 65. 157 Brüning, Militär-Strategie, 222–223. 158 R. v. L., Aufsätze, 249–255.

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should be undertaken. Recent history, according to Rühle, had shown that offense resulted in many good consequences. Taking the conflict to enemy territory gave the advantages of moving away from one’s own territory, damaging the enemy’s territory, and posing a threat where enemy feared it most. There also existed the chance of surprising the enemy before its operational plans was completed, or of capturing advantageous positions for further actions. On the other hand, proximity to one’s own base allowed for a better concentration of forces, taking positions that threatened enemy movement, stronger national support against the invader, and proximity to prepared shelters in the event of an unfavourable outcome.159 Everything, therefore, was relative, and both the offensive and defensive were equally beneficial.160 On the basis of ­Hagemann’s interpretation of the these views,161 Schneider concluded that Rühle and Lossau belonged to that group of Prussian military authors who ‘rehabilitated defence’,162 which in his view clearly distinguished them from Clausewitz. This last opinion seems to be taken quite out of the context of what was Rühle von Lilienstern’s essential idea of the unity of war. Rühle objected to the strict distinction between a ‘great’ and a ‘small’ war. Both should be recognised as the same type of war, i.e., a conflict interrupted by pauses. From the works of authors dealing with ‘small wars’, Rühle surmised that the concept caused them difficulties. The first concerned the number of troops used. According to some, a smaller number of troops was used in a ‘small war’, whereas it was normal to deploy a vast number of troops to wage a decisive battle in ‘great wars’. Others, limited the definition of ‘small wars’ to those deploying light detachments. Yet in recent wars, light units were deployed in ‘great wars’, and conversely, large line detachments had been used in otherwise typical ‘small wars’. Equally faulty was the definition that a ‘small war’ did not have an influence on the main operation because it did not include major clashes. Rühle was of the opinion that in certain circumstances conducting a ‘small war’ could have a decisive influence on the main campaign that could not have been provided by deploying large troop formations. Despite the importance of the issue, it was insufficiently discussed in contemporary literature, where authors who did address it included too many concepts, generating unnecessary confusion. This was primarily due to a failure of appreciating the significance of ‘small wars’ and treating them as an inferior activity. This was, in turn, l­ argely 159 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 126–136. 160 Ibid., 136–138. 161 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 65–66. 162 Schneider, ‘La pensée’, 445.

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a result of experiences from recent wars. Napoleon had always pressed for swift victories and therefore tried to force the enemy to engage in a major battle where the numerical superiority of his forces and his personal genius would prevail. Memories of those great battles presented a one-sided picture of the art of war. Above all, the risks involved in trying to engage in a battle against such a talented commander was forgotten.163 Meanwhile, warfare involved preparedness to fight. The activities of main forces in the field of military operations Rühle defined as a campaign (Feldzug). Military actions for a particular aim in a war was an operation. An operation comprised all the elements of warfare that contributed to achieving the main aim of the war and the sum of its results, i.e., one or more battles, pauses, stops, marches, demonstrations, and observations of the enemy.164 Just as war was made of periods of fighting and not fighting, so too in the life of the state there were periods of waging war and periods of preparing for it. Pauses in fighting served the same purpose as peacetime for states, they allowed for the gathering and preparation of forces.165 With this in mind, it should be concluded that war always comprised elements of the ‘great’ and the ‘small’ war. The function of the latter was to secure supplies, cooperation, and reconnaissance for the goals of large-scale actions. Both forms of war, however, should be perceived according to the same principles, as was indicated by the analogy between a single battle and a war operation. Both types of war relied on the same idea, the main difference between them being the atmosphere in which they were conducted.166 Both forms fluently changed from one to the other. A ‘small war’ should be conducted when the side was not interested in or unable to achieve a swift resolution. It was a both a political choice and one out of necessity resulting from weakness. Another advantage of the ‘small war’ was its ability to adapt and profit from changing circumstances and events. The effectiveness was demonstrated by examples of actions in Spain, Russia, and Prussia.167 The opponent who has a large number of troops in the field is tied down by them.168 The monistic approach to ‘great’ and ‘small’ war issues is generally considered the most characteristic element of Rühle von Lilienstern views.169 This aspect of his reflection most fully demonstrates the idea that it is pointlessness to give definitions or classifications with regard to the art of war. Waging war was conditioned by the 163 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 1–4. 164 Ibid., 7–8. 165 Ibid., 31–32. Cf. Heuser, ‘Small Wars’, 145. 166 R. v. L, Handbuch, vol. 2, 40–49. 167 Ibid., 56–59. 168 Ibid., 78–87. 169 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 61–63; Heuser, The Evolution, 404–405.

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arrangement of hundreds of factors, and the commander’s task was not to apply abstract principles but to be ready always to adapt available resources to achieve an assigned goal. No available type of warfare was inferior if it resulted in success. In Rühle’s concept, the key role for conducting actions was played by time and place. In accordance with Kantian assumptions, these were the two dimensions necessary for describing the world through the senses. Therefore, all key questions regarding any operation had to concern these two dimensions. Defined places in time could be termed as culminating points. Gaining time was always relative. When one side lost time, the other gained it. Lost time (Zeitverlust) meant a situation in which there was no result or change in circumstances. The moment of a decisive battle could be described as the critical or culminating point. Some operations did not have a single crisis, while others went from crisis to crisis.170 Place was inextricably linked with time. Not every type of place was equally useful, and its importance changed in relation to time and circumstances. Just as crises existed in time, so too there existed locations in place that were important for controlling an area and conducting a given operation. These Rühle called ‘points’ or ‘key points’ (Schlüssel, Schlüsselpunkte). Such points could either facilitate or hinder operations. However, their importance should not be overestimated; they were insignificant if not used by fighting units. To idea behind them was the real key, a point in space was a keyhole where the application of force could bring success.171 This view was similar to those of 18th-century military authors writing about pivot points. Hagemann noted that Rühle criticised the concept of key points in Henry Lloyd’s theory172 in a manner similar to Clausewitz.173 From this perspective, it is difficult to agree with Gerwien, who considered that Rühle had not explained enough issues concerning the ‘higher’ art of war. From the general’s point of view, meticulous analysis of line operations, bases, and such was pointless because larger scale actions constituted those principles based on the relative importance of rules and procedures, as well as the uniqueness of every military situation. Out of the vast and difficult to read oeuvre of Rühle von Lilienstern there emerges a coherent vision of the art of war, based on the conviction of the political nature of war. Apart from being fully able to describe it, it has few 170 R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 67–72. 171 Ibid., 74–77. 172 H.H.E. Lloyd, War, Society and Enlightenment. The Works of General Lloyd, ed. P.J. Speelman (Leiden-Boston, 2005). 173 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 63.

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constants given the unpredictability of war, resulting as it did from human factors.174 Rejection of the mechanistic-naturalistic paradigm of the Enlightenment put the general among supporters of new trends in the art of war. In this respect, he was indeed close to Clausewitz. On the other hand, emphasising material preparation for war placed him closer to the views of Boyen and Grolman. Then again, Rühle’s flexible approach to the conduct of war unique. While Boyen and Grolman placed the emphasis on defence and a detailed description of the terrain facilitating irregular actions, Clausewitz usually advocated engaging in battle as fast as possible in order to resolve the conflict. For Rühle, both approaches were too one-sided.175 From his point of view, only a particular given situation could decide what type of action should be taken. Therefore, he saw no need to carry out detailed operational plans, but instead felt it necessary to determine what one’s own resources and those of the enemy were. Similar to Boyen, Grolman, and Müffling, he believed preparedness for war could be achieved through thorough and comprehensive studies in peace time, which he oversaw as the head of the ggs. It is difficult to establish the actual impact of Rühle’s writings on the emergence of a new trend in Prussian military thought. He does not seem to be a major or typical representative of the ‘romantic’ art of war. His views, though decidedly spiritual and philosophical, were rather a variation of the general trend in Prussian military concepts that after the Napoleonic Wars stressed the need for change but remained sceptical with regard to dogmatic and strict principles in the preparation and waging of war. 174 Cf. Heuser, ‘Rühle’, 215. 175 Heuser, ‘Small Wars’, 146.

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Carl von Decker and Works Published under his Auspices in the Years 1815–1830 According to Eckhard Trox, in the years 1830 to 1840, a group of conservative editors of important Prussian military journals established a tradition of cyclical and basically obligatory conferences. Among the matters discussed during sessions of this ‘military quasi-parliament’ were the reviews of submitted articles, which naturally affected the way in which they would later be appraised.1 One of the members of this influential group was Carl von Decker, who gained a reputation for being a demanding and harsh reviewer, as many military authors would learn. The exception was review he published in the mlz regarding the first volume of Vom Kriege. His affirmation for the deceased Clausewitz was expressed by comparing the effects of reading his work to ‘electric sparks passing through the body’ and the book itself to ‘a meteor shining with its own light’.2 After such lofty words, what a shock it must have been for Decker to read the fourth volume of Clausewitz’s works concerning the 1796 Italian campaign.3 In his review of available literature, Clausewitz stated that Decker’s book on the subject was the least useful.4 According to Troschke, Decker was deeply disappointed because he genuinely admired Clausewitz and had been planning to write a series of reviews about successive volumes of his historical works.5 Consequently, however, Decker only published a restrained and anonymous review of the fourth volume in mlz, and thereafter refrained from ­appraising Clausewitz’s works for many years.6 Despite this, in the years 1833– 1835, the zkwg published a series of excerpts from Vom Kriege under the title Aphorismen über den Krieg und Kriegführung (Aus den hinterlassenen Schriften

1 Trox, Militärischer Konservatismus, 88–91, 134–138. 2 Decker, ‘Gedanken über des Generals v. Clausewitz hinterlassenes Werk: Vom Kriege – ­Niedergeschrieben und vorgelesen in der wissenschaftlichen Unterhaltung der Offiziere der 1sten Artillerie-Brigade, gehalten zur Gedächtnisfeier des verewigten Verfassers am Jahrestage seines Todes den 16. November 1832’, mlz 13, 6 (1832), 548–570. 3 Clausewitz, Hinterlassene Werke, part 4: Der Feldzug von 1796 in Italien (Berlin, 1833), 4. 4 Decker, Der Feldzug in Italien in den Jahren 1796 und 1797 (Berlin und Posen, 1825). 5 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 126. 6 [Decker], ‘Der Feldzug von 1796 in Italien. Nachgelassenes Werk des Generals Carl von Clausewitz. Berlin bei Dümmler 1833’, mlz 15, 1 (1834), 18–28.

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des Generals von Clausewitz).7 In accordance with Decker, the excerpts were published without any comments so that the readers could draw their own conclusions about Clausewitz’s works. Therefore, it seems that even if Decker held a grudge, he considered the ideas contained in Vom Kriege to be worth promoting, something he had done not for the first time in his career. Carl von Decker was one of the most diligent Prussian military writers of the first half of the 19th century.8 In the 1815–1830 period, his position in Prussian military thought was prominent, which also could have been a consequence of the position he held. As a member of the editorial offices of almost every important Prussian military periodicals he had a fundamental influence on the recognition and promotion of publications. His polemical temperament and personal charisma enhanced the strength of his advocacy. Decker was also an important lecturer at the aks, teaching various aspects of the art of war. According to Eberhard Kessel, works he published could have been based on scripts to lectures,9 and other published works would have been widely read by students attending his lessons. Decker was also involved early on in disseminating books among privates and non-commissioned offers in order to create a broader population educated for war.10 These positions gave Decker authority and raised the prestige of his works. A measure of their significance was, for

7

‘Aphorismen über den Krieg und Kriegführung (Aus den hinterlassenen Schriften des Generals von Clausewitz)’, zkwg 28, 4 (1833), 92–94; 5 (1833), 186–188; 6 (1833), 271–278; 29, 7 (1833), 102; 8 (1833), 196; 9 (1833), 276–278; 30, 1(1834), 93–94; 2 (1834), 185–188; 3 (1834), 276–278; 31, 4 (1834), 97–98; 5 (1834), 198–200; 32, 7 (1834), 96–98; 9 (1834), 280–282; 33, 1 (1835), 93–94; 2 (1835), 195–196; 3 (1835), 293–294; 34, 4 (1835), 101–102; 6 (1835), 292– 294; 35, 7 (1835), 97–98. 8 Ansichten, 1st Ed.; 2nd Ed. (Berlin und Posen, 1822); Decker, Die Artillerie für alle Waffen, oder Lehrbuch der gesammten reinen und ausübenden Feld- und Belagerungs-Artilleriewissenschaft, parts 1–3 (Berlin, 1816); 2nd Ed. (Berlin, Posen, Bromberg, 1826); Decker, Die Gefechtslehre der beiden verbundenen Waffen: Kavallerie und reitende Artillerie (Berlin, 1819); Decker, Der kleine Krieg im Geiste der neueren Kriegführung. Oder: Abhandlung über die Verwendung und den Gebrauch aller drei Waffen im kleine Kriege, 1st Ed. (Berlin, Posen und Bromberg, 1822); 2nd Ed. (1822); 3rd Ed. (1828); 4th Ed. (1844); Decker, Der Feldzug; Decker, Die Taktik der drei Waffen: Infanterie, Kavallerie und Artillerie, einzeln und verbunden; im Geiste der neueren Kriegführung: Vorlesungen, gehalten auf der Königl. Allgemeinen Kriegsschule zu Berlin, parts 1–2 (Berlin, Posen, ­Bromberg, 1828); 2nd Ed. (1833–1834); [Decker], Grundzüge; Decker, Praktische Generalstabswissenschaft. (Niederer Theil) Oder: Dienst der Generalstabes für die bei einer Division im Kriege angestellten Offiziere (Handbibliothek für Offiziere, oder: Populaire Kriegslehre für Eingeweihte und Laien) 8 (Berlin, 1830). 9 Kessel, Moltke, 42, footnote 1; Here, Kessel primarily had in mind: Decker, Die Taktik. 10 Trox, Militärischer Konservatismus, 91; Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 34–35.

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example, the number of languages they were translated into,11 including editions published in the Congress Kingdom of Poland.12 The Polish translator of one of his books, Lieutenant Colonel Antoni Wroniecki, said it could serve as a guide to the art of war for students of the Warsaw Military Application School,13 as were his other works appreciated for their didactic value in Poland. Despite his achievements in military theory, Decker was never the subject of a detailed analysis. This is perhaps the fact that Decker is closely associated with Rühle von Lilienstern. Scholars often stress the similarity of views the authors had with regard to professional matters, but decidedly consider the works of Rühle to be superior intellectually.14 Decker, for them, was more of a practitioner than an eminent thinker. Kessel stated outright that he could not be included among the greatest minds of that period, and his written works in no way could be compared to the contributions of Clausewitz. He furthermore considered Decker to have been a stubborn man unwilling to accept an opposite opinion. Despite this, he was seen as part of a major trend in military thought that emphasized the moral and spiritual aspects of the art of war. Kessel assessed his views as eclectic: on the one hand, deeply rooted in analyses drawn from history, on the other, steeped in the conviction of changes that had taken place in the army as a result of the French Revolution. He wanted to make use of the positive aspects of the old Frederickian standing army while at the same time accepting Clausewitz’s teachings of the moral dimension of armed conflict. This eclecticism, according to Kessel, was apparent in Decker’s acceptance of a new Prussian military system.15 Troschke highly appreciated Decker’s ­historical-military achievements, noting that these, however, were the least 11

The French translations include: Decker, Traité élémentaire d’artillerie, à l’usage des militaires de toutes les armes…, transl. and additions J. Ravichio de Peretsdorf, A.-P.-F. Nancy, vol. 1–2 (Paris, 1825); Decker, La Petite guerre, ou Traité des opérations secondaires de la guerre, … suivie de l’instruction secrète de Frédéric ii, transl. and additions J. Ravichio de Peretsdorf, vol. 1–2 (Paris, 1827); Decker, De la tactique des trois armes, infanterie, cavalerie, artillerie, isolées et réunies dans l’esprit de la nouvelle guerre, transl. and ed. F. de Brack, vol. 1–2 (Brussel, 1836–1837). 12 Zdania o tegoczesnym wojowaniu. Dzieło Pruskiego Maiora C. Decker, ułożone według uwag generała Rogniat i rękopisma wykładanego w Berlinie oficerom Sztabu Głównego, trans. A. Wroniecki (Warsaw, 1828); Decker, Mała wojna według tegoczesnego sposobu wojowania, czyli o użyciu wszystkich trzech broni w małej wojnie. Przełożone z niemieckiego przez M.L. byłego oficera wojsk polskich (Warsaw, 1828); Decker, Nauka wojowania jazdy wspólnie z artylleryą konną, Wyjątek przetłumaczony z Dzieła w Niemieckim języku przez Majora Deckera napisanego przez J.K. Kapitana Artylleryi Konney Polskiey (Warsaw, 1828). 13 Zdania o tegoczesnym, 1. 14 Kessel, Moltke, 42; Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 31–32. 15 Kessel, Moltke, 42–43.

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r­ ecognised of this works.16 Contemporary literature perceived Decker primarily as a classic authority on tactical thought.17 A specificity of Polish historiography is its broad presentation of Decker’s tactical ideas concerning the ‘small war’. This was due to the Polish translation of his works and attempts to use them to assess the state of reflection on war in the Congress Kingdom, although it is difficult to consider the most recent studies on the subject to be successful.18 In West European and particularly French-language historiography, Decker is perceived in the context of views expressed by General Joseph Rogniat, whose name does appear in Prussian editions of his work.19 This aspect of his writings is significant in analysing his views regarding strategy. Rogniat was an experienced military engineer, a veteran of many Napoleonic campaigns, and for a time a member of the emperor’s headquarters. In his Considérations sur l’art de guerre,20 published in 1816, he was the first highranking French officer to conduct a complex criticism of Napoleon’s actions and their underlying assumptions. Rogniat’s arguments intended to show that some of Bonaparte’s actions were based on anomalous luck, and were in fact contrary to the art of war. These opinions were widely commented on in France as well as abroad, and the response was mixed.21 Napoleon himself referred to the book, accusing his former subordinate of being a dilettante in the ‘higher’ 16 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 34. 17 [Gerwien], ‘Rühle von Lilienstern’, 171. See also: Hoyer, Litteratur, 444, 446; Rumpf, Allgemeine, vol. 1, 170. 18 Maciej Trąbski’s discussion of Decker’s works is sketchy, and actually only refers to what was translated into Polish. For this reason he fails to show them in the context of Prussian and European reflections on war, which thus also does not allow for a full appreciation of their impact in the Kingdom of Poland. This is a serious omission, all the more so because the author is unable to show the influence of Decker’s writings on Polish officers. Very confusing are the inconsistent descriptions of the nature of the works, sometimes treated as theories, and at other times as instructions or even rulebooks, which is a quite unjustified interpretation, unconfirmed by any of the historical sources and nowhere to be found in foreign literature on the subject; M. Trąbski, Kawaleria Królestwa Polskiego 1815–1830 (Warsaw, 2011), 278–279; Trąbski, Armia Wielkiego Księcia Konstantego. Wyszkolenie i dyscyplina wojska polskiego w latach 1815–1830 (Oświęcim, 2013), 27, 196–203, 433. Lech Wyszczelski, in turn, does not distinguish the concept of a ‘small war’ from ‘partisan warfare’, differences which Decker made clear in his works; Wyszczelski, Teorie wojenne i ich twórcy na przestrzeni dziejów. Myśl wojskowa od powstania do końca lat osiemdziesiątych xx wieku (Warsaw, 2009), 60, 261, 262–263. 19 Colson, Rogniat, 632–633; Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 219; Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel: nationalisme, libéralisme, réflexions sur la guerre et natation: un archétype de guerrier prussien’, Langendorf, La pensée, 288, 291–293. Coutau-Bégarie also notes his writings concerning the ‘small war’ and ‘partisan war’ (Traité, 243, 245). 20 Rogniat, Considérations, (Paris, 1816); 2nd Ed. (1817). 21 Colson, Rogniat, 611–624, 628–636.

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art of war, whose horizons were limited to the technical aspects of conflict.22 The most famous polemic against the book was penned by Colonel Jean Baptiste de Marbot, in which Rogniat was perceived as seeking to reverse the art of war to the times of the ancien regime.23 Various appraisals could be found in Germany, including those of die-hard supporters of Rogniat. Among the latter group was the Württemberg general Joseph von Theobald, who co-edited Considérations sur l’art de guerre, which included a criticism of Marbot.24 In Prussia, the views of Rogniat were widely commented on in the military press and specific aspects of his theory criticised.25 There were also agreements with Marbot’s accusations,26 wherein Theobald’s edition was regarded unfavourably.27 However, as Heinrich von Brandt noted in 1824,28 reviews largely overlooked the Prussian editions of 1817 and 1822 in which the name of Decker was featured.29 Published in mwb in 1819, a short discussion was moderately critical of Rogniat and decidedly favourable towards Decker,30 hardly surprising since the periodical was edited by Decker himself. There is no doubt that the Prussian edition of Rogniat was associated with Decker,31 but questions exist concerning his connection with the text. In explaining its creation, Decker stated that it was based on lectures of an unnamed General Staff officer, delivered in the winter of 1816/1817. He declared that he had tried to preserve the essence of Rogniat’s views. Decker in his humble way said that he had tried to add his own comments but his contribution came down to compiling the 22

Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France sous Napoléon, écrits à Sainte-Hélène, par les généraux qui ont partagé sa captivité, et publiés sur les manuscrits entièrement corrigés de la main de Napoleon, vol. 2: Mélanges historiques, Notes, ed. Ch.-T. de Montholon vol. 1 (Paris-Berlin, 1823), 223–296; vol. 2 (Paris-Berlin, 1823), 1–203. 23 J-B. de Marbot, Remarques critiques sur l’ouvrage de M. le lieutenant-général Rogniat, intitulé: Considérations sur l’art de la guerre (Paris, 1820). A comparative analysis of the writings of Rogniat and Marbot and the comments of Napoleon is found in; Colson, Rogniat, 554–589, 598–604, 606–611. 24 Rogniat, Marbot, J.A.H. von Theobald, Betrachtungen über die Kriegskunst. Übersetzt mit der von dem K. Franz. Obersten Marbot (Marcellin) über dieser Werk bekannt gemachten Kritik (auszugweis) verbunden und mit Anmerkungen verfasst von dem K. Wuertemb Hrn. Generalmajor v. Theobald vermehrt von M. S…, (Stuttgart, 1823). See also Colson, Rogniat, 633–634. 25 ‘Bemerkungen über Rogniats Considerations’, 721–722; ‘Ueber Rogniats’, 1118–1121. 26 Wenzell, ‘Considerations’, 3 (1822), 173–204; 4 (1822), 261–325. This review chiefly ­concerned tactical and organisational issues. 27 W, ‘Des Königlichen’, 410–428. 28 Brandt, Ansichten, iii–iv. 29 Ansichten. 30 ‘1816 Considerations’, 1032–1034. 31 Hoyer, Litteratur, 444; Rumpf, Allgemeine, vol. 1, 170.

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work.32 In an attempt to identify the unnamed officer whose views provided the basis for the work, in French literature,33 there is a suggestion, based on a review of the work in Jenaische Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung, that the officer was Ernst von Pfuel, who at the time was a Colonel of the ggs.34 This would account for the fact that Decker dedicated the work to him. Despite this, Langendorf consistently maintains that the entire work presents the views of Pfuel and, for this reason, authorship should be attributed to him. Admittedly, he has had doubts as to whether it was perhaps a hybrid of the two.35 Ultimately, after a comparison with earlier texts by the Prussian officer,36 he concluded that the book presents Pfuel’s views and is indeed his.37 This argument is not entirely convincing, for, despite Decker’s modest declaration, it is hard to imagine that he would have had no influence on the ultimate shape of the work. In fact, apart from fragments, it is not possible to determine the extent of his ‘compiling’. A somewhat different version of the circumstances of the work’s creation is provided by Troschke, according to which it was Decker, at Grolman’s request, who actually gave the series of lectures on Rogniat to gs officers, which were then published.38 The views expressed in Ansichten did appear under Decker’s name and became known in Prussia and abroad.39 Even if a large part of the text was Pfuel or another unidentified officer, the situation is similar to questions concerning the origins of views expressed by Rühle von Lilienstern. This is, nevertheless, associated with assessing Decker’s opinion of Rogniat’s theories. In this context, Bruno Colson said that while Pfuel was decidedly critical of Rogniat, Decker accepted the French general’s arguments. Evidence is found in the French edition of Die Taktik der drei Waffen.40 Indeed, in the second volume of this work, Decker frequently refers to Rogniat in a distinctly positive way.41 He considered his ideas regarding fortified camps to be groundbreaking, and Rogniat himself to be a reformer. In Decker’s opinion, Rogniat 32 Ansichten, 1st Ed., vii–viii. 33 Colson, Rogniat, 632; Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 291–299. 34 ‘Berlin. b. Mittler: Ansichten über die Kriegführung im Geiste der Zeit. Nach dem Französischen des Rogniat und nach Vorlesungen, welche im Winter 1816/17 den Offizieren des Generalstabes in Berlin gehalten worden sind bearbeitet von K. Decker, Major in k. Pr. Generalstabe.1817’, Jenaische Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung 4, 186 (1818), 114. 35 Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 291–299. 36 Cf. analysis of the earlier views of Pfuel and their significance in Austrian military thought; Brüning, Militär-Strategie, 202–203. 37 Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 292; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 466. 38 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 33. 39 E.g. ‘1816 Considerations’, 1033. 40 Colson, Rogniat, 632–633. 41 Decker, Die Taktik, 254, 273–300 and 331.

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was, alongside Lazare Carnot, the first engineer to approach tactical problems with full understanding and engagement. According to Decker, his contributions were already unfortunately forgotten, because for every tactician his were as precious as the works of Jean Racine or Friedrich Schiller.42 Reference to the views expressed in Ansichten concerned only a narrow range of issues where the arts of fortification and tactics overlapped, and even if they constituted an important part of Rogniat views they did not amount to a complete acceptance of his theories. Decker valued the French theoretician, and did not consider references to him as something controversial. This places Decker among supporters of the old fashioned school of war in the first years after the Napoleonic Wars. However, such an appraisal is not entirely justified by of the fact that Ansichten also includes a criticism of Rogniat – penned by Pfuel, according to Colson. The role of Decker behind this inclusion is unknown. It would seem justified to say that Decker accepted some of Rogniat views concerning tactics, but on other issues his attitude was sometimes critical. This is confirmed by a comment made at the end of the 2nd edition of Ansichten. There Decker referred to Marbot’s criticism of Rogniat, saying that it was factual and reasonable, though a bit too harsh, longwinded, and peculiar to the French context. He also expressed satisfaction that Marbot agreed with most of his points, which suggests that Decker’s enthusiasm was a far cry from the stance held by Theobald.43 Subsequent doubts concern another anonymous work ascribed to Decker, entitled Grundzüge der praktischen Strategie.44 This work appeared in ­Volume 7 of the Handbibliothek für Offiziere, oder: Populaire Kriegslehre für Eingeweihte und Laien series, published by a company associated with Zeitschrift für Kunst, Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Krieges, where Decker was an editor. For some reason it was the only work in the series whose author was unnamed. However, Johann von Hoyer, the named author of another work published in 1832 in the same series, stated that the author of the anonymous work was Decker,45 affirmed in later publications by Scholl,46 as well as by Troschke, who stated that Decker played a decisive role in the creation in Grundzüge.47 Even as a collective work, the text was inextricably linked with the name of Decker, though the

42 Ibid., 273–274. 43 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 8. 44 [C. von Decker], Grundzüge. 45 Hoyer, Litteratur, 446. 46 F.L. Scholl, Systematische Übersicht der Militär-Literatur und ihrer Hülfswissenschaften seit dem Jahre 1830 (Darmstadt, 1842), 85, item 778. 47 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 34, 85.

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fact seems to have escaped the notice of francophone scholars,48 including Langendorf, whose opinion in the context of establishing Decker’s contribution to the book is that it was a synthesis of lessons drawn from an analysis of the Frederickian and Napoleonic art of war, presented with terminology borrowed from A.H.D. von Bülow without, however, adopting his theory. The work was to be a presentation to a wide readership questions regarding the ‘higher’ art of war. According to the Swiss historian, the book expressed the issues in a concise fashion, in particular the relationship between politics and war, the matter of lines of operation, and the theory of battle.49 In accepting Langendorf, it the work was intended to be an eclectic, as confirmed by the opinion of Kessel regarding the essence of Decker’s views. That this was a presentation of Decker’s views on strategy is possible provided we accept that works bearing his name largely represented the views of circles that he moved in. Paradoxically, this makes them more valuable, for it means they were not private aspirations but rather views legitimised by important centres of military thought. Material regarding views on strategy under the auspices of Decker is sufficiently large and includes, in addition to the two cited works, all books he published as well as the reviews and discussions they invoked. Relevant opinions of Rogniat, especially those directly referred to by Prussian reviewers, are sufficient for a coherent presentation of the views on strategy promoted by Decker and the circles he was associated with. As Troschke and Kessel noted, Decker did not carry out elaborate philosophical inquiries into the nature of war. Inspired by Rühle, he simply stated that war was a conflict carried out with the use of armies. Every war had a main aim and, contrary to popular opinion, it was not always peace, for that meant the end of the war.50 It was necessary to be aware of the reasons for the outbreak of a conflict as they formed the basis for analysing the strategic position. War was always associated with pursuit or demand, and consequently its goal was to realise the demand by violent means. Decker therefore clearly advocated the political nature of war, generating a variety of ways in which the goals could be pursued. Extreme defeats could result not only in material losses but even threaten the very existence of the state. The goals of war could be achieved by putting the enemy in a situation that inclined him to accept your terms. In this matter, however, everything was relative, as historical examples had demonstrated.51 Of all the actions undertaken by the state, war was the most 48 Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 212. 49 Langendorf, Krieg führen, 365. 50 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 9, 84. 51 [Decker], Grundzüge, 16–31.

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i­mportant and the most abundant in consequences. Therefore, it should only begin at the most appropriate moment, which was the domain of politicians who should be guided by strategic reasoning. Politics prepared for war, whereas strategy led it. Decker believed that military commanders should be admitted to the political cabinet so that politician could apprehend the military perspective of the war and, conversely, so that the commander could better understand the political rationale.52 It was the ultimater accomplishments of war and not battles won that determined success. Success was also determined by the duration of a war. The increased duration of a war could have only one objective, to expel the enemy from the country. This was shown by the example of the Tyrolean Rebellion of 1809, in which the Tyroleans continued to rebel even after Austria had signed a peace agreement. The greater the determination of the people, the longer the war lasted, regardless of whether the motivation was freedom, independence, or religion.53 The convergence with the views of Rühle shows that the political nature of war was a widely held concept in Prussia after 1815. Rogniat did not elaborate on this matter, but his work, according to Colson, revealed the perception of the political perspective of campaigns.54 Rogniat believed knowing the political system of the enemy state was key. While Hernán Cortés was able to conquer Mexico thanks to technical superiority, in Europe one had to rely on advantages in terms of tactics, spirit, and morale of the troops. There were quite different perspectives between conflicts against armies of despots and those of republican armies. In the latter case, the factors were love of homeland and of freedom. Hence, the perspectives of Alexander the Great in Persia were quite different from those of Hannibal in Italy. Rogniat thought it a mistake to assume one could conduct offensive wars against captive nations and republics in the same way. In the former, a single battle could decide the whole war, in the latter nothing.55 Decker shared this point of view, and cited the Frenchman on this subject frequently.56 In this respect, however, the French general’s views were hardly embedded among the Prussian military. Decker described war as the most difficult but also the most honourable of the arts. It engaged the role of time, usually absent from other arts. Unlike painting, for instance, one did not wait for inspiration, the compelling forces in the art of war were the opponent and time.57 War comprised five main 52 Ibid., 32–33. 53 Ibid., 84–86. 54 Colson, Rogniat, 599–602. 55 Rogniat, Considérations , 2nd Ed., 439–444. 56 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 395–409. 57 Ibid., 9–10.

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e­ lements: the spiritual or intellectual strength providing the commander with good judgment, the ability to carry out the will of the commander without explanations, the ability to use armies as a weapon, the quality of the the army, the battlefield (theatre of war) and the use of terrain. The first two were elements beyond the boundary of explication, whereas the remaining three could be classified as tactics. In earlier epochs, armies were seen as involuntary machines, but those times disappeared with the French Revolution. Armies now became organic bodies, a balance between its moral, spiritual, and physical elements.58 Here, Decker was citing views expressed by Rogniat in his chapter on the metaphysics of war.59 Despite these changes, there were commanders who still found war like a game of chess, whose only goal was to improve the positioning of their battalions for the purposes of attack or defence. All of this, in their opinion, could be calculated, but obedience was not an inherent virtue and like valour had to be trained. By nature, fearful people had to be taught to overcome fear. Decker pointed to several moral elements in the army: valour, perseverance, dedication, and a disregard for danger. The simplest means of building valour was coercion, which at its lowest form made it possible to bring thousands of men onto the battlefield, but did not allow for great feats. Coercion should not be confused with military discipline (Kriegszucht), which Rogniat understood to be a state in which soldiers acted as a single body directed by the will of the commander, but difficult to achieve and easily destroyed by the terror of war. Not much more noble than coercion was ambition, which Rogniat perceived as the pursuit of medals and distinctions. Of higher value were honour, love of one’s country, freedom, independence, and finally religion. The last helped in the achievement of war, though it was associated with fanaticism. Rogniat’s opinion of honour did not differ much from the desire for distinctions. For him the highest virtue above all other was valour. Decker was of the opinion that the nobler the cause requiring valour, the richer great feats in war. Fundamental were love for and trust in commander, which the commander had to be able to arouse, e.g., with oratory skills. For this reason, the spiritual element in the army concerned the commander as much as it did individual soldiers. Issues ranged from learning to use weapons, tactics through the history of wars, and everything bound within military theory and experience. The physical element, including the arms, uniforms, and physical condition, had to support the spiritual condition.60 Rogniat and Decker, therefore, placed emphasis on the moral aspect of armed conflict, which defied rigid 58 59 60

Ibid., 9–11. Ibid., 11–19; Rogniat, Considérations, 2nd Ed., 407–438. Cf. Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 293–294.

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­calculations.61 Rogniat supported basing the army on the ancient model of citizens defending their country. In his opinion, the French were the first to return to this model. The last 25 years had shown its effectiveness and now other European states were interested in this approach. France had needed conscriptions to counter the overwhelming forces of the coalition; the attempts of the Bourbon monarchy to move away from this system he considered to be a mistake. Conscription was the basis for France’s successes and though the idea was abused during the Napoleonic period, it was still essential to preserving the independence of the state.62 This did not mean departing from the principle of perfectly trainied units. The Revolutionary Wars, ‘cette guerre terrible’, had brought progress in all areas of the art of war, and especially led to perfection in conducting major battles.63 Decker’s works devote a great deal of attention to definitions of strategy and tactics. They constitute a sort of synthesis of the considerations of Prussian military authors, since Rogniat did not refer to the matter at all.64 Decker commented that the French general never used the term ‘strategist’.65 In Ansichten, he stated that in the past distinctions had not been made between tactics and strategy and it was only recently that importance was being attached to these concepts, resulting in many proposals. Bülow strongly believed the two terms were different from each other, yet his proposals were misleading. According to Decker, to accept them would mean that a column of soldiers marching 20 miles from the enemy was a strategic manoeuvre, whereas the same column or part of it proceeding within the enemy’s line of sight was the application of tactics, and yet the same manoeuvre could not represent two distinct concepts. Decker also rejected the concept of Archduke Charles, according to which tactics were the art of war and strategy the science of war (Kriegswissenschaften). This view placed science above art, a notion that Decker could never agree with. Science, even the most thorough and deep, provided knowledge that could be passed on to others. Art, on the other hand, comprises knowledge and abilities (Können) that could not always be passed on to others. With reference to Rühle’s considerations, Decker formulated the question as to whether distinguishing between tactics and strategy was really essential and 61

Scholars of French military thought emphatically note a clear return towards appreciating the moral values as had been instilled into the army during the Napoleonic wars; Colson, Rogniat, 594–598; Griffith, Military thought, 118–122. 62 Rogniat, Considérations, 2nd Ed., 72–75. 63 Ibid., 66–67. 64 Colson noes that Rogniat does not use the word ‘strategy’ in his entire work; Colson, Rogniat, 581. 65 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 79.

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useful in the context of the art of waging war. In the general sense, it was unnecessary because, despite all considerations, one could not become a good strategist as a result of science. The French did not use the term ‘strategy’ for many years yet the lack of definition was of little significance. In Austria, by contrast, a great deal of importance was attached to strategy, but as their war record showed, it was easier to create rules than to apply them. Likewise in Prussia, much talk of strategy did not prevent a defeat in 1806.66 According to Decker, every art included elements of theory and practice concerning the goal and method of action. That was the case with the art of the generals (Kunst der Feldherrn), which concerned the creation and implementation of a plan of movements. This allowed for a basic distinction: ‘All positions, movements, etc., as they were, where they were and where we want them to be belonged to the realm of tactics; whereas the selection and description of these positions, movements, etc., belonged to strategy’. More concisely, strategy was orders, plans, and schemes, while tactics was execution.67 According to Decker, there were two types of orders. The first category included orders issued to units to take up positions, march, and such. The second category were orders issued by unit commanders to the soldiers regarding the implementation of goals. The first category was strategical, whereas the second category was tactical. Tacticians also acted according to plans and orders, but these were of a different nature to those of the strategists. The strategic element was focused not only on the general, but to everyone who created the ordinances, plans, and sketches. Here, one needed to distinguish between the ideal and material elements that existed from the commander-in-chief to the platoon leader. Possession of these elements did not automatically create a strategist, it only allowed one to understand the significance of actions on that level. It was possible to limit tactics to movements and taking positions without considering the goal, because that was a strategic concern. But this did not distinguish between the two. Decker doubted whether movement became less tactical only because the goal was known, all the more so if it changed during the manoeuvre. Waging war could, however, be compared to a fight between two people. Fencing was the mechanical ability of using the weapon, which in that capacity could be perceived as tactics. Giving the movements purpose, in turn, elevated fencing to the realm of strategy. But the two elements were so inextricably linked 66 67

Ibid., 71–74; These views were met with strong approval on the pages of mwb; ‘1816 Considerations’, 1033–1034. ‘Alle Stellungen, Bewegungen u. s. w. selbst, sie geschehen wo und in welchem Gesichtkreise sie wollen, gehören daher zur Taktik; die Wahl, die Bestimmung dieser Stellungen, Bewegungen u. s. w. aber zur Strategie’; Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 75.

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that it was still difficult to distinguish between them. Everyone had their own individual theory and practice and became the reason for the decline in attempts to define the difference.68 Taking into account attempts to translate foreign terms into German, Decker stated that strategy had been translated as Feldherrkunst, but there was no German equivalent for the word tactics. In his opinion, one could use the term Kriegführung to signify both concepts. After all, neither tactician nor strategist could conduct a war on their own. Strategy was that part of waging war that concerned the general outline of operations, the sketched plan. Tactics concerned implementing the strategic plan.69 The strategist could, therefore, wage war hypothetically on a map or paper without having to witness blood, whereas the tactician waged war on the battlefield. Both were relative to each other. The reflections contained in the first edition of Ansichten70 became the object of polemics for Rühle von Lilienstern.71 He believed that they unjustifiably promoted a double theory for each concept. Strategy was once defined as an operation and at another time as management. All this smacked of schematism and complicating a simple issue. Rühle did not see the need to create two theories for the same activities; tactics and strategy were both in equal measure management and implementation, while Decker proposed contrasting management with implementation, which could lead to the absurd conclusion that preparing an operation plan was strategy, whereas its implementation, that is actually waging the whole war, belonged to tactics. Similar to the cases of the ‘small’ and ‘great’ war, they were intertwined at every level of the art of war and were concentrated in the person of the commander. Therefore, Rühle rejected Decker’s model. Despite criticism, this fragment was not changed in the 2nd edition of Ansichten. For incomprehensible reasons Langendorf omitted the polemical nature of Rühle von Lilienstern’s comments,72 which, nonetheless, allowed him to maintain the theory that Pfuel belonged to the same romantic art-of-war circle. Meanwhile, the inclusion the polemic aspect suggests that the author of the Ansichten fragment was Decker. Commentaries in the first person contained in the second edition of the work are undoubtedly his, and one of these ­commentaries indeed 68 69

70 71 72

Ibid., 76–78. ‘Die Strategie ist nun, nach dem Vorigen, derjenige Theil der Kriegführung, welcher als Grundlage vorangeht, wie bei einem Gebaende erst der Riss entworfen und der Plan angelegt werden muss, bevor die Maurer Hand ans Werk legen können. Die Taktik endlich ist derjenige Theil der Kriegführung, der desjenige in Ausführung bringt, also zur That schafft, was der Stratege entworfen hatte’; ibid., 79. Ansichten, 1st Ed., 59–64. R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 103–109. Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 295–296.

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c­ oncerned the criticism found in Handbuch.73 Decker confirmed that he was the author of considerations on strategy and tactics, which again raises the question of his relation to the content of the work as beyond mere arranging. This thesis is corroborated in Grundzüge, where the appearances contained in Ansichten are further developed.74 Tactics required more practice than theory, they were more like an instrument in a higher hand, rarely asking about the causes of a conflict but rather about the methods of fighting. Its task was to defeat the enemy with the use of arms. However, someone had to set the task. This was, of course, the commander, whose actions belonged to the ‘higher’ art of war, or to put it scientifically, strategy. This simple assumption, however, could lead to the erroneous idea that Feldherrkunst could be easily learned when in reality it was insoluble in military pedagogy. Napoleon was of the opinion that one could become a commander thanks to genius or thanks to experience. Everything apart from strategy (or as they called it grande tactique) could be learned from books. Although agreeing with this truth, Decker believed the spirit and sense of strategy could be expressed on paper. Three roads led to it: science, experience, and history. The second of these created the commander as he was, but the other two could be learned through higher military education. Thus it was possible to be acquainted with the form, sense, and spirit of strategy and tactics so they could serve as indicators for both levels. From the tactical point of view, the waging of war comprised two elements: actions carried out independently by the commander for which he was solely responsible, and actions carried out independent of the commander by many burdened only with partial responsibility Tactics was fighting with an army, like a sword duel. It did not concern the purpose of the war, but rather the purpose in the war (Zweck im Kriege). Mastering the vision of strategy, according to Decker, required understanding the source of the commissioned task. The general who wanted to wage war effectively with the help of the army always wanted a tactician to perform the task in the fastest and most efficient manner. For this purpose he needed to be aware of four issues: the reasons why the war began, the causes for which it is fought, the goal it is to achieve, and the resources at his disposal for achieving this goal. All these issues normally did not interest the tactician and that was the difference between him and the strategist. The spheres of strategy as perceived by Decker partly corresponded to those of Rühle von Lilienstern. Similar to him, he considered strategy and tactics to 73

‘Auch meine Ansichten haben sich dabei eines Kommentars zu erfreuen gehabt’; Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 74. 74 [Decker], Grundzüge, 1–6.

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be elements of the same, inseparable process of waging war. Both spheres of activity were closely related and one could not exist without the other. It was impossible to fully understand the level of strategy without understanding tactics, and conversely, every action of tactics contained an element of strategy. Hence, his scepticism for most of the popular attempts at demarcation. Unlike Rühle, however, he did see a clear difference in the nature of the two levels of the art of war, and each action belonged to one level or the other. The criterion distinguishing the strategist was awareness of the purpose of action, on the basis of which he issued teleologically related orders to give a desired effect. The tactician was free of these considerations and able to focus entirely on his assignment. For the same reason he was subordinate to the strategist, whose goals he was obliged to carry out. Such a hierarchy was contrary to the views of Rühle, who believed strategy and tactics formed a whole and one smoothly transformed into the other. The reflections in Decker’s works regarding this matter seem eclectic and some inconsistent. On the one hand, he rejected the formulation of a definition and, invoking Rühle, considered it to be pointless. On the other hand, the model he propose was indeed artificial and unclear. It is hard not to agree with Rühle that strategy required just as much implementation as tactics, and therefore saying it exclusively involved study and considerations was a mistake. Yet this was not the only inconsistency in Decker’s views. Polemicizing with this approach, Rühle pointed to a dual understanding of the term ‘management’. In one sense, it could mean oriented in the future, therefore planning, sketching, and areas of preparation, and in another sense it meant issuing orders regarding the present situation.75 Taking Decker’s point of view, one would say that in the first sense management belonged to strategy, and in the second sense, to tactics. However, also on the strategic level, he distinguished between preparation and implementation (Einleitung). War preparations were divided into external and internal. The former belonged to the realm of politics and involved maximising the strength of one’s own forces and weakening those of the enemy by various diplomatic means leading to alliances, trade agreements, subsidies, guarantees of neutrality, and more. Decker considered these actions to be indirect preparations. The latter type of preparation concerned internal military administration. This included putting the army on a war footing and ready to march, securing supplies, putting fortresses in a state of readiness and consolidating territorial defences, refilling army ranks, and preparing the theatre of war and planning the first operations. The first two points were more associated with the war economy, which is why Decker excluded them 75

R. v. L., Handbuch, vol. 2, 105–106.

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from the field of strategy.76 Much more extensive were his reflections on the last three issues, starting with the preparing of the theatre of war. The terms ‘theatre of war’ (Kriegstheater) and ‘theatre of warfare’ (Kriegsschauplatz) were often used as synonyms, yet their meanings were quite different. The first referred to all the military operations, whereas the second only to part of them. The Prussian theatre of war, for instance, would include not only the Rhineland, but also Westphalia, Thuringia, etc., whereas the theatre of warfare in this case was the area around Trier, Mainz, or Erfurt. Every large state had more than one Kriegstheater. The theatres of war were prepared by the general staff, which should analyse the strategic system of fortresses, potentially advantageous positions from a tactical point of view, questions of topography, rivers, mountains, and above all roads, statistical comparisons regarding the populations, birth rates, available auxiliary units, the peoples’ relative moral and spiritual strengths, and attitudes towards the government. These questions had to be answered during peacetime and archived in the form of studies and memoranda. Their completeness was the chief concern of staff officers. The general staff performed its work through travel and reconnaissance during the summer and studies and memoranda in the winter. After the outbreak of war any deficiencies had to be corrected.77 In Ansichten, Decker divided his description of the potential theatre of warfare (Kriegsschauplatz) into two main parts. The first included learning about its properties, and the second the preparation for war. There were many ways to learn about the territory, above all maps, descriptions, and tours, the last of which was especially important in the form of reconnaissance missions carried out by gs officers. A specific description of the physiognomy of the terrain required taking into account practicability (Gangbarkeit), productivity (Fruchtbarkeit), and, in the eventuality of war, an assessment of the battleground (Schlachtbarkeit). The first of these meant main roads and side roads, or chausse, postal roads, and other lower category roads. Possession of the roads was essential during wartime, therefore they had to be described in detail (their width, quality, usability depending on the season, etc.), similar were descriptions of river crossings. All these details were entered in an appropriate table, to which was added a characterisation of the terrain, mountains, hills, forests, marshes, etc. The second category of description concerned all natural and manmade materials (Kriegsstoffe) necessary for the waging of war, particularly supplies. The last category primarily concerned identifying potential lines of movement (Bewegungslinien) for the army in attack and defence, as well as when in retreat. Lines of movement were supposed to halt the enemy’s movements and their 76 [Decker], Grundzüge, 41–45. 77 Ibid., 51–54.

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importance was relative to the targets the enemy was trying to capture. For this reason positions could be taken on the border or some distancefrom it. Armies retreated to a central point (usually the capital), called the first-order line (ersten Ordnung). Waiting for reinforcements in fortified places marked the ­secondorder line. Avoiding the enemy and threatening his rear to draw him away from the target buildings constituted the third-order line. Hindering enemy movement also required marking positions (Aufstellungen), which were rarely close to interior lines. These positions could either defeat the enemy or stop it. As a general rule the position had to be located in a place that would force the enemy to take a large detour. The country’s higher strategy points, however, had to be closely connected to interior lines, and hence were called knots (Knoten).78 Such methods of describing territory closely resembled the official ggs officers’ instructions, from which Decker likely drew his information.79 In Ansichten, he stated that preparing the country for war included communication lines and connections via watercourses and territorial fortifications.80 According to Grundzüge, fortresses could have diverse influences on operations. Strategists should be primarily interested in their condition, size, and strategic location. Those three factors decided the significance of any given fortress. A badly maintained or incomplete fortress could be more damaging than useful. Likewise, its personnel should only be as numerous as was necessary. The state of a fortress consisted of both absolute and relative elements. The former depended on the engineers who built it, the latter its commander and personnel. The size of the fortress was consistent with its purpose. The smallest fortresses, usually simple forts, guarded roads and passes, especially in mountainous regions such as those in Italy and Spain. Medium-sized fortresses, called offensive strongholds, served as a foothold for attacking troops. These were usually built on the country’s borders, e.g., in Tournai and in Charleroi in the Netherlands. They had to be of an appropriate size to meet the needs of the first operations, but could not be places-of-arms (Waffenplatz), for in the event of the need to evacuate this would result in unnecessarily material loss. The final category included real places-of-arms with warehouses and depots, called central fortresses. For Prussia this was Magdeburg, for France Cambrai. Their goal was to concentrate all resources and be able to receive an entire corps in the event of their not being able to remain in the field. Another advantage of large fortresses was that laying siege to them tied down enemy forces. These fortresses had to be well maintained, large, and most important of all, 78 79 80

Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 25–38. Cf. Chapter 2. Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 34–38.

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well located. Always of key importance was the connection of roads to the theatre of war. Despite their advantages, for financial reasons it was impossible to build fortresses at every road junction, but the building of new roads should, nevertheless, be constructed in connection with existing strongholds. Fortresses had a twofold significance: defensive (tactical) and offensive (strategic). The first was usually limited to the range of cannons. Fortresses of real strategic significance were only those that could form the base for an offensive, such as Cologne, Koblenz, Gdańsk, Tournai. Such fortresses required the engagement of two enemy armies, one for laying siege and another for observation, both of which could hold the enemy back. They also served as winter quarters. A system of fortifications based on such principles still would need to be modified on average every 10 to 20 years. In 1806 the belt of fortresses in northern France was considered impassable and yet just eight years later they were bypassed with ease. This proves the maxim that in war everything had both an absolute and a relative aspect. A system of fortresses was most beneficial for countries that were geographically well situated, such as France and Spain. Countries such as Prussia, Italy, and Bavaria had to be satisfied with single fortresses.81 Those seeking knowledge about fortification systems were referred to Brandt’s work, articles in the zkwg, as well as the publications of Rogniat.82 Detailed considerations on fortification systems were one of the most extensively commented subjects in Ansichten. Decker stated that in the past the usefulness of fortresses seemed obvious and attempts were made to cover entire territories with a dense network of fortresses, so that the country’s army was always in the supply area of one of them. An alternative approach to the network system was the creation of three belts of fortifications along the border. On this basis the north-western border of France was fortified, which when appropriately supplied and manned posed a formidable barrier. The need, however, to keep these belts of fortresses fully manned and supplied rendered the system impractical and thus an inadequate protection. This was apparent in 1815, when it took the coalition forces no more than a day to march past the shield of fortresses. The strongholds were poorly maintained and undermanned. The embankments and dykes were only a passive obstacle, of any real value only when manned by troops, who in turn needed to be supplied.83 These observations corresponded to the opinions of Rogniat, who claimed that the hundred-mile-long French border had around 50 fortified places. He 81 [Decker], Grundzüge, 57–70. 82 Brandt, Ansichten, 45–71; ‘Ueber die militairische Beschaffenheit’, 4 (1824), 35–74; 5 (1824), 335–350; 6 (1824), 335–350. 83 Ansichten, 2nd Ed. 39–41.

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noted that after the Battle of Waterloo, coalition forces were not stopped by the three lines of fortifications and entered France unhindered. The French general believed this was largely a consequence of the attitude of the people and did not undermine the importance of the fortresses. Without them, the army would have been in a much worse situation, lacking ammunition, arms, and artillery, as well as points of support. Rogniat was opposed only to the French system, which had too many fortresses.84 Decker was of the opinion that the location of a fortress should always be associated with a concrete goal. Immediately after an army was assembled, it had to be maintained and supplied, which resulted in the need for the first type of stronghold, with warehouses and depots to provide victuals, arms, and uniforms. In the case of this type of stronghold, their size was actually an advantage, if their maintenance were secured. The purpose of the second type of fortress was to withhold enemy attacks. Decker called these second-order (zweiten Ordnung) fortresses, whose aim was to induce the division of enemy forces, if only through the deployment of blocking troops. This type of fortification was not mentioned by Rogniat. The third type of fortress was to be perceived exclusively as a blockade of road lockings (Strassensperrungen). Normal forts were perfectly adequate for this purpose, provided the surrounding area was sufficiently inaccessible and the enemy could chose no alternative route. Rogniat pointed to the key role of such fortresses, especially in mountainous regions. According to Decker, every fortress had a specific operational effectiveness (Operationswirksamkeit), and was able to provide the army with necessary materiel and reinforcements within a specified area. This area was usually within six or seven days march. Larger fortress also had a defensive effectiveness (Vertheidigungswirksamkeit) depending on the range of its artillery. These assumptions formed a coherent system of fortifications theory. With regard to rivers, Decker referred to Valentini in his Lehre vom Kriege and Rogniat,85 both of whom emphasised their importance, especially in the case of rivers flowing in a perpendicular direction to the border, allowing for fortresses to be situated on either side for the transferring of troops from one bank to the other, manoeuvring and forcing the enemy to divide his forces. Rogniat, however, was sceptical about the use of large cities for the construction of fortresses.86 The chief problem was the city’s inhabitants, who would burden the fortress personnel. In his opinion, only the capital city should be protected by a corps, enforced with ramparts, and perceived as the last point of resistance. Decker, by contrast, 84 Ibid., 42–46; Rogniat, Considérations, 2nd Ed., 478–499. 85 Rogniat, Considérations, 2nd Ed., 474–476. 86 Ibid., 491–492.

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believed the proximity of a large city could be useful. He argued that fortresses, like the military system itself, acquired a significance when they were based on the enthusiasm and fighting abilities of the whole nation. Fortresses were the cornerstone of all military preparations, which should encompass the entire state. Fortresses, however, needed to be looked after in peacetime, and if they failed in wartime, they became trophies for the enemy.87 Decker also referred to Rogniat’s concept of using fortified camps as a complement to the state’s system of fortifications.88 In Decker’s opinion, they were second-order defensive points, whose purpose it was to provide the army with a secure base during the defence of a province. They could also provide shelter to a defeated army. In both cases, their chief task was to supply and support the troops. Two basic errors regarding fortified camps was excessive size, necessitating a large number of personnel, and their close connection with fortresses, which in the event of their being captured, made it easier for the enemy to attack the fortress.89 For this reason, Rogniat proposed that instead of one large fortified camp, greater mobility should be provided by constructing four smaller camps, forming a quadrangle with the fortress in the centre.90 Decker regretted that Rogniat had not gone into greater detail with regard to this idea because he had considerable doubts of a technical nature.91 In fact, the views of both authors in Ansichten were criticised on the pages of mwb. There it was argued that Rogniat and Decker took into consideration only large states and ignored medium-sized states, capable only of defence. Fortified camps, however, often preserved the existence of a state during the first attack. If a powerful neighbour was aware that an attack would require the use of considerable forces and time, they might refrain from attacking. According to the mwb reviewer, a system of fortified positions was essential for defence, though instead of the expensive French system of three belts of fortresses, it seemed more effective to have fewer but larger and better equipped fortresses that could house an entire corps.92 Wenzell also criticised the views of Rogniat. In his opinion, the Frenchman was wrong to attach strategic importance exclusively to large fortresses, such as Cologne, Koblenz, and Minden, while from the Prussian perspective smaller fortresses, such as Saarlouis, Jülich, and a number of other less advanced strongholds could fulfil the requirements. He also doubted the need to allocate fortified camps near fortresses, as the practically of this approach 87 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 46–61. 88 Rogniat, Considérations, 2nd Ed., 478–499. 89 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 62–63. 90 Rogniat, Considérations, 2nd Ed., 490–491. 91 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 66–67. 92 ‘1816 Considerations’, 1033.

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d­ epended on the local situation.93 With regard to the fortification of capitals and large cities, he agreed with Decker that such defences were essential and could be achieved if only with simple ramparts.94 It is not surprising that the views in the works of Decker and Rogniat provoked a discussion. Both writers attached great importance to preparations for war, of which the system of fortifications played a key role, regardless of the nature of the operation. In this respect, Decker’s views were consistent with those of important people in the Prussian army, though, of course, not without differences regarding the choice of means. Once appropriate preparations were completed, it was possible to draft a strategic plan for the first operations. There was no point in looking too far into the future, as all plans soon become invalid. The plan had to be related to a political goal and constitute the joint work of the army and the politicians, the assumed concentration and coordination of troops, the estimated time and place of the first battle, and the predicted consequences of success or failure and how the next stage of the campaign would coordinate with the first. These considerations formed the basis for orders issued to the generals.95 The political goal could be conquest, enmity, defence, an attempt to throw off tyranny, or other intentions. Regardless of the motive, war always became either defensive or aggressive and therefore required both defensive and offensive plans. Attack boosted morale, which is why this form of warfare was encouraged. However, it was impossible to attack without also the possibility of defence. This, unfortunately, had not always been the case, as was demonstrated, for example, in the operational plans against the French of 1805, 1806 and 1809, which included only offensive options. An operational plan had to clearly define the aim of the war; state where and when the army should be deployed, and define the line of operations for units acting in relation to one another as well as individually. This should be preceded by a thorough assessment of the enemy forces and an examination of the possible outcome of the initial battle, which often determined the outcome of the whole campaign. Operational plans rarely included all of these elements, though theory and practice showed that omitting any could lead to defeat. While true, a plan, on the other hand, should avoid unnecessary details and remain relatively general, as wars were often won by on the spot decisions and therefore commanders should never be constrained by a rigid plan. For this reason, plans were usually drawn up no further than for the 93 Wenzell, ‘Considerations’, 3 (1822), 321. 94 Ibid., 323–324. 95 [Decker], Grundzüge, 54–56.

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first strategic deployment (zum ersten strategischen Aufmärschen). According to Decker, that was the reason why Rogniat hardly wrote anything about operational plans.96 Decker’s concept clearly corresponded with what was then the Prussian army’s approach to planning. Though he does not mention the defence system concept, his detailed description of the preparation for war and especially the fortification systems clearly reflect its essence. The writing of a proper operational plan was difficult to describe and included elements that were actually impossible to predict. For this reason, the plan had to be sufficiently flexible and adaptable to given circumstances. Decker, nevertheless, attached great importance to the theoretical precepts of the planning process. Creating a plan required knowledge of terminology, and therefore the mechanics of strategy. In analysing this sphere, Decker referred directly to Bülow’s conceptual grid, which he defined as pure strategy (reine Strategie).97 This could be seen as a sort of scholasticism, but Decker believed that without learning about these issues from the perspective of Bülow or Wagner, one could not become a practical soldier. Although he considered Bülow’s famous ‘omnipotent’ triangle to be a somewhat strange concept, as in the case of other attempts to illustrate strategy in a geometric form, Decker saw the advantage in shortening description and allowing for a visualisation of the issue.98 Consequently, apologising to the reader, he presented geometric figures, explaining that they served to understand practical strategy. In his opinion, descriptions of arts and sciences required using images, though they should not be worshiped. Therefore Decker refrained from the ‘compass and angle strategy’ as he called it, and declared that he used the conceptual grid purely for didactic purposes.99 That seems neither clear nor logical. The educational benefit of learning concepts by measures that should not be applied for fear of falling into a schematic mode of thinking is not clear. In Decker’s presentation, it appears to be a barren form of knowledge, with the ‘essence’ of strategic thought existing outside it.100 It is possibile thast describing actions with geometric figures assumed a corresponding applied strategy. Decker’s ideas therefore appear vague and largely contradictory. They reveal a certain eclecticism which might exlain the inconsistency of his views. Whether or not that was the case, Decker persistently used conceptual grids in his works. A military operational .

96 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 87–89. 97 See Kuhle, Die Preußische Kriegstheorie, 169. 98 See Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 296–297. 99 [Decker], Grundzüge, 114–116. 100 Decker, Der Feldzug, vii–viii.

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plan was a sketch of operations throughout the campaign; the plan of a single operation was not a military operational plan. An operation meant the organisation and execution of strategic measures (using troops), in relation to the aim of the war. It comprised marches, halts, and battles. The terms ‘march’ and ‘operation’ were not interchangeable. A march was a means to carry out an operation, and usually ended with a strategic clash, which turned next into a subsequent strategic march. Both terms belonged to the sphere of tactics, but only relative to strategy, to which both were always subjugated. Operations science (Operationslehre) meant considerations on setting up and sometimes ending operations. Operations always ended with a tactical clash, therefore their climax was a battle. Subjket meant the point from where the army marched out. The object was the point towards which the army was heading. These were always physical points. Subjekten were points, usually fortresses. The objects of operations could be diverse, e.g., the enemy army or the capital of a state. in 1813, the object of the coalition operation was the French army, and in 1814 it was Paris. An operation, therefore, comprised both strategic and tactical elements: a march to the object (strategy), preparations for tactical deployment, called Aufmarsch-Entwicklung (tactics), the actual deployment, a battle, skirmish, siege (tactics), returning from tactical deployment to strategic operations, including chases, retreats, march outs (tactics), beginning a march to a new object (strategy). For this reason, Operationslehre comprised the study of marches (Marschlehre), the study of deployment and redeployment (Abund Aufmarschachlehre), and the study of the actual battles (tactics in the narrow sense).101 The belt of Subjekten alongside each other determined the operational base. Not every point where the army was stationed constituted a Subjekt. Sometimes, as Bonaparte had done in 1796, this point could be mobile and an actual army.102 Reflections on the significance of operational bases were one of the most well-known and controversial elements in Rogniat’s theory. They were the basis on which he criticised Napoleon’s conduct of the war. Rogniat also had a sceptical approach to Napoleon’s methods of requisition, arguing that he had burdened the soldiers with additional tasks and had had a negative effect on discipline.103 For this reason, he considered that the great mistake of Napoleon’s campaign in Russia and Saxony was the lack of prepared reserves and of an operational base. In his opinion, this resulted from the habits of the emperor, who was used to resolving conflicts on the battlefield. Bonaparte’s basic 101 [Decker], Grundzüge, 9–10. 102 Ibid., 10. 103 Rogniat, Considérations, 2nd Ed., 457.

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mistake in the invasion of Russia was to leave his operational base on the Vistula, from which, after crossing the Memel river, he was constantly moving away. Proceeding deeper and deeper into the interior, he waged war without hospitals, depots, or secured lines of communication, which in effect led his army to ruin. Rogniat likewise negatively appraised the 1813 Saxon campaign, led by the operational base on the Rhine and the wings threatened by Prussian territories on one side and Austrian Bohemia on the other. Napoleon might have created a base on the Saale, so that with strong points of support in Magdeburg and Hamburg he could conduct defensive actions, but in keeping with his temperament he preferred to seek the solution in a decisive battle. Rogniat was exceptionally scathing in his appraisal of the Battle of Austerlitz. In his opinion, numerous devotees of the emperor pointed out that his greatest victory was achieved by bold manoeuvre without using an operational base. According to Rogniat, however, Napoleon’s situation, even after victory, differed little from his attack on Russia. Surrounded by enemies, with unsecured lines of communication, depots, ammunition supplies, and France threatened with invasion, Napoleon owed his triumph solely to fortune and the errors of the Coalition. Rogniat felt that particular campaign deserved as much criticism as the Russian one, the only difference being the result. Likewise Napoleon’s campaign of 1796 were undeserving of admiration in the eyes of his former subordinate, who, by contrast, highly praised his achievements in the Battle of Marengo, even comparing them to those of Hannibal.104 Rogniat was a supporter of the ‘methodical art of war’. It was based on a constantly repeated cycle. This involved setting up an operational base and further actions once the soldiers had been provided with supplies for eight days of marching, after which the cycle was repeated. The maximum permitted distance from the base was to be 30 to 40 miles. This approach required the possession of a strong reserve army that would be able hold the base. Its presence should also deter the enemy from attempting to carry out manoeuvres on communication lines.105 The matter of the operational base was therefore the criterion for assessing the Napoleonic campaigns and censure when they did not follow the paradigm. This aspect of Rogniat reasoning was severely criticised by Marbot, who argued that the French would never have won the 1806 campaign if they had followed such rules. If the French had built a new base on the river line every 14 days, the Prussians would have been able to draw in reinforcements from Poland and the Russians would have also arrived at the theatre of war. A battle would then have been fought not only against Prussia, but also against Saxony 104 Ibid., 464–473. 105 Ibid., 455–457.

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and Russia. Military history had shown that in many cases, following Rogniat’s principles would have simply been a waste of time. Marbot believed Rogniat was demonising the problem of venturing away from a base, and the idea of a reserve army, in turn, was considered by him less an advantage than a hindrance to operational forces.106 Wenzell agreed with Marbot’s conclusions, as he also considered Rogniat ideas to be too methodical to work in practice. He was of the opinion that rapid occupation of the enemy’s province gave more advantages than a slow, methodical, step-by-step operation. Wenzell argued that history had shown the requisition system was an excess of the revolutionary period as was evidenced, for instance, by examples in the Thirty Years’ War.107 Decker, by contrast, to a large extent agreed with Rogniat in this matter. For him, moving too far away from supply depots was problematic, far worse when an army relied on what could be taken from the occupied land, especially when one had to deal with natural and manmade obstacles. Decker valued the Frenchman’s opinions regarding Napoleon, all the more so because Rogniat had been an influential participant of those events.108 He had different appraisals, however, with regard to the battles at Marengo and the 1796 campaign, which in his opinion, together with the fighting on the Marne in 1814, was deserving of the highest recognition.109 In Grundzüge, Decker developed the concept of operational bases based on the theory of Rogniat. Operations-Subjekten by nature were situated where major roads intersected.110 Their importance depended on circumstances, often on their location, but there were many exceptions. The loss of one or more Subjekten could ruin the entire defence plan. In earlier days, the whole war boiled down to manoeuvring between Subjekten, which likened it more to a game of chess.111 Decker considered Bülow’s concept of the operation triangle and angles to be theatrically sound, yet at the same time he believed that during actual armed combat it was better not to stick to rules. In a similar vein, he commented on having the army march out directly from the base, considering it be relying too much on mathematical principles, to focus on the strategic value of the point and the angles.112 An operational base primarily required points that were well-­ connected, ideally by a large road. In an attack, the base usually constituted the first belt of border fortresses and in defence, the second belt if fortresses, 106 Rogniat, Marbot, Theobald, Betrachtungen, 708–710. 107 Wenzell, ‘Considerations’, 4 (1822), 317–320. 108 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 114–121. 109 Ibid., 121–125. 110 [Decker], Grundzüge, 116. 111 Ibid., 130–136. 112 Ibid., 122–123, 130–136.

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d­ escribed by local conditions. An offensive base had a constant value, whereas the scale of the offensive was variable. Therefore, as forces advanced it became necessary to set up a second base or completely abandoning the idea of bases. According to Napoleon, one should have a fortified or entrenched point every five or six days of marching during an offensive, to meet the needs of the troops and have a base for further manoeuvres. Napoleon, however, did not apply this rule in his 1812 war against Russia, and thus lost touch with his base.113 An army relying on requisitioning was less dependent than an army supplied by a system of depots. Although theories existed that one could wage war without a base, these were exceptions requiring numerical superiority or the genius of the leader, the extraordinary boldness of the troops, as well as the physical, moral, and spiritual enervation of the enemy. This explained the success of Napoleon’s 1796 campaign without a stabilised base. According to Decker, an operational base offered far more advantages than a single Subjekt. In the case of failure, a base was a place to withdraw to a find shelter. It was more difficult to cut off an army from its resources, he argued, if it had a good base. A base was also advantageous during a defensive war, especially when the whole nation was participating. However, if they were situated too far from the area of operations, their value as a provider of supplies was considerably diminished if not completely lost. The advantages of a base changed, depending on whether the army was nearby or drawn away from it. A flanking base could not support an ongoing operation. A closed base had the advantage of its central position. The very existence of a base, however, was not an absolute guarantee of safety. Conducting an operation without a base was possible only in certain circumstances, and even in a favourable turn of events it was better to stabilise the base.114 In this excerpt, Decker continues of the thoughts of Rogniat. Even if his criticism of Napoleon’s actions is less overt, he clearly favours the methodical art of war and the preparation of a base comprising fortresses. The requisition system for him appeared to be a product of the historical moment that could only work under a leader of the calibre of Bonaparte. Therefore actions, including risky reliance on the Subjket only, could not be treated as exemplary. Decker referred to the section connecting the Subjekt with the object the line of operation. It could run along any route on land or over water.115 Decker stressed that many military authors had attempted to perceive war as a system. Among the most famous was Bülow, making it comply with rules based on 113 Ibid., 116–120. 114 Ibid., 143–145. 115 Ibid., 9–10.

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angles and mathematical lines. Decker agreed with Valentini’s opinion that Bülow with his geopolitical constructs paid no attention to distances, geography, or the consequences of engaging in battle.116 The surprise for him and his ilk was when in the 1796 campaign, Napoleon flouted all the theoretical assumptions of pure strategy by conducting operations without a base, Subjekten, fortresses, magazines, or appropriately defined lines of manoeuvre, while negating the usefulness of Bülow triangles.117 Decker considered the system proposed by Jomini to be unclear. The Swiss scholar divided lines of movement into territorial and manoeuvre lines,118 the first of which were determined by nature and suitable for both attack and defence. Decker felt this concept was based on far too great a scale when Jomini called Italy the right, Switzerland the central, and Germany the left Territoriallinie of the French attack on Austria. Jomini indicated that manoeuvre lines were designated sections of territorial lines within a given area of operations, an explanation Decker also found to be unclear. Among manoeuvre lines, Jomini made distinctions between single, double, triple, internal, external, concentric, eccentric, secondary, and accidental. Though all these types of lines were precisely defined in theory, it remained doubtful as to whether they had been clearly explained or whether they could be useful, and so it was hard to consider the theory to represent a coherent system.119 This ambiguity also concerned the essential meaning of ‘external lines’ and ‘internal lines’, which in Decker’s opinion, were better defined in the recorded quotes of Valentini.120 Having before him the defeat of 1806, Decker was very sceptical towards all systems.121 Despite this, he considered a conceptual grid analysis of lines of movement as important as the operational base concept. The mistake committed by strategy theorists was to assess lines of movement in terms of mathematics or the arrangement of angles. They failed to appreciate the importance of perceiving lines of movement in terms of roads and the space through which the lines pass in actual territory. The creation of a useful theory on the basis of geometric calculations was impossible, rather one should try to learn from history. Decker believed there existed major and minor lines of movement. The former always led to the point where the enemy wanted to engage in battle. The secret of effective strategy was to strike the enemy at a sensitive point, and the art was in identifying this point. The major lines usually led to key sites, often of double importance, both 116 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 92–93. 117 Decker, Der Feldzug, viii–ix. 118 ‘Territorial- und Manöverlinien’; Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 93. 119 Ibid., 93–94. 120 Ibid., 94–96. 121 Cf. Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 294.

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objective (i.e., military) and defensive, in terms of provision of supplies and the possibility of retreat.122 Napoleon was said to subscribe to the view that there was only one major line of movement, with which Decker did not argue.123 The terrain and circumstances had a decisive influence on the characteristics of the line of movement. However, importance of the terrain on the strategic scale was different from the tactical one, where the presence of obstacles could be advantageous, although it changed the property of the base and should be avoided. The line of movement should end at an obstacle, so as to ensure the possibility of further actions, to stabilise the spot to create a new base, or, alternatively, ensure a large number of crossings.124 Lines of movement ensured access to supply sources. Hence, the temptation to focus the whole campaign on destroying the enemy’s connection to supplies. According to Bülow’s system, severing of the line of movement was the worst thing that could happen to an army. Brilliant generals, however, cared for this less than the methodical thinkers, for both Frederick ii and Napoleon were able to sacrifice their lines of movement in order to achieve greater successes. In addition to alternatives, there were three major ways of cutting enemy lines of movement. The first involved sending a detachment from the corps to attack the enemy rear or flank. This was tactically advantageous and strategically permissible, provided that there was a considerable numerical superiority or if one held a position that would cost the enemy many men. The second way involved leaving a smaller part of the force facing the enemy and using the larger part to attack the enemy from behind. The final way was for the whole army to march on the enemy’s line of movement and not leave any forces facing the enemy. In which case the enemy line was captured at the cost of having one’s own line of movement dangerously exposed. Theory was irrelevant here; the important factor was the quality of the enemy, while the challenge was to depend on one’s subordinates to carry out the manoeuvre. Hence, only commanders as brilliant as Frederick ii and Napoleon could attempt such a ploy. It required taking into account four factors: a terrain that was appropriate for marching but also for pitching a battle, an appropriate enemy, reliance on a predetermined supply system, and appropriate tactical settings and tasks for reconnaissance.125 Decker considered operations always to consist of marching and an armed clash. Marching and battles were closely linked; one prepared the other. The art of effective marches was difficult, most fully mastered by Frederick the 122 [Decker], Grundzüge, 145–148. 123 Ibid., 149–153. 124 Ibid., 154–156. 125 Ibid., 157–176.

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Great and Napoleon. Both were able to surprise the enemy and defeat it without firing a shot. Not without good reason Bülow stated that modern wars were won with soldiers’ feet. The study of marches was the sister of strategy. Marches could be classified in accordance with circumstances. Marches without an enemy were travel marches or Reisemärsche. All marches connected with an enemy were called war marches (Kriegsmärsche). Decker had doubts about making distinctions between marches leading directly to battle (tactical) and the remaining marches (strategic). Encountering the enemy broke the strategic march, turning it into a tactical manoeuvre and establishing an evolution between the two. The entire war comprised alternating strategic and tactical movements, with the difference that the strategist waged war with a pen and the tactician with a sword. If the enemy avoided confrontation, the tactician had no role to play. A strategic march, however, always ended with a tactical combat, and combats were usually followed by a strategic march. All of this together formed an operation.126 Decker divided battles into three categories: positional, one side attacking, and with both sides attacking.127 A direct attack on the enemy, so that the enemy lost its line of movement, was a combination of tactics and strategy. A tactical manoeuvre could force the enemy troops to withdraw from their positions, while a strategic manoeuvre cut them off from their line of movement. Therefore, it was possible to show that the tactical and strategic points of attack, as in the Battle of Leuthen, were one and the same. The collaboration between tactics and strategy always worked best when both were commanded by the same person. The objectives of earlier wars and more recent ones differed. Previously, the goal was to occupy a province, whereas with Napoleon it was a battle of annihilation (Vernichtungsschlacht). Decker considered that the latter type of war combined tactics and strategy in mutual interaction and juxtaposition. Frederick the Great often had tactical goals of annihilation, but more often than not strategic circumstances prohibited it or the king overestimated the strength of his forces. The effects of Vernichtungsschlacht were most fully demonstrated by Napoleon’s campaigns of 1805, 1806, and 1809. Frederick’s later campaigns show him to be a master of tactics, but not of strategy leading to a battle of annihilation. Perhaps if Frederick had won at Kolín, it would have been a success comparable to the triumphs of Napoleon. The reason for defeat lay in the tactics, primarily the lack of reserve troops. Decker pointed to other deficiencies in Frederick’s strategy, primarily the use of firearms in lieu of artillery. Another obstacle was the extent of the territory he fought in. This forced him to resort to ‘partisan’ warfare, and in 126 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 173–177. 127 Ibid., 210.

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such a situation it was hard to develop strategy. Decker was of the opinion that contemporary wars were not won by means of manoeuvres or demonstration battles (Paradeschlachten), but through attrition (Ermattung) or the destruction (Vernichtung) of the enemy. That was why they were usually so brief, unless they turned into a brutal war of nations, such as the conflict between the Greeks and the Turks. Napoleon never manoeuvred to conquer territory, but only to defeat the enemy or to win time (e.g., on the Danube in 1806). Hence, in the case of a simultaneous clash, he usually attacked the enemy’s wing that was closest to his line of retreat. Another manoeuvre frequently deployed by Bonaparte was a frontal assault with reserve forces left to attack the enemy’s rear.128 Of course, a defensive war could also be favourably resolved, but in such cases the decisive role would always be played by tactics and atypical manoeuvres. The invader usually took the risk, as was the case when it came to fighting a battle where the defender was officially the victim. Nevertheless, it would be wrong to assume that the defending side had less to do than the invaders, for every offensive action had to be effectively countered.129 Decker defined battle as the universal means (Universalmittel) of war. The desired result of a battle was always either the destruction of the enemy, or the occupation of territory and forcing the enemy to retreat. The first result had a decisive impact on the whole campaign, while the latter was of secondary importance and only marked its subsequent phases.130 A battle, however, was not the only means of achieving the goal of a war. Paralysing the enemy meant that the opponent was unable to carry out a counter-attack as Frederick ii had done at the Battle of Liegnitz. Neutralisation meant putting the enemy in a situation preventing him, for instance, from breaking through a line of fortresses or ramparts.131 Demonstration and diversion (political or strategic), in turn, meant actions in front of or behind enemy lines. In the latter case, the actions were covert, whereas in the former, as conspicuous as possible.132 The operational plan had to comply with the political goal and a generally assume to either swiftly destroy the enemy or wear him down in a long war of attrition. A plan defined to a lesser extent the goal and to a greater extent means by which the war would be waged. Usually the stronger side attacked, though there were numerous exceptions, depending on the relative strengths and moment of action. A defence plan resulted from the relative superiority of 128 [Decker], Grundzüge, 188–192. 129 Ibid., 192–195. 130 Ibid., 199–204. 131 Ibid., 11–12. 132 Ibid., 15.

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the enemy or the shape of terrain preferable for defence. Both types of plan required accounting for the same factors: the available forces, expected level of enemy resistance, nature of the warzone terrain, and the nature of the enemy army.133 The means of carrying out an offensive plan included destroying enemy war resources, capturing the enemy’s province, and destroying the enemy army. The first primarily involved destroying depots. The capturing of a province resulted partly from carrying out the first measure and capturing for reuse some of the resources. The destruction of resources did not automatically result in the occupation of a province. The conquering of a province could have a considerable impact on subsequent operations, always defined by the province’s strategic positon, and hence offering a double advantage. It was also an excellent means of exerting pressure on the enemy to end the war on your terms. Occupied territory, however, also had to be controlled and maintained. As long as the enemy’s army was able to act, occupation of a province remained only a step to achieving the goal. Therefore, the most effective offensive measure was destruction of the enemy’s army. Without the destruction of enemy forces the other measures would probably be unable to secure the war’s objectives. Destruction of the enemy’s forces prevented any possibilities of a hostile counteraction. History taught that great leaders had always first attempted this measure, whereas less talented ones the other two.134 The area of operations within the theatre of war was determined by various factors. A frequent target of operations was the enemy’s capital, but the concentration of enemy forces was always the objective of offenses. Therefore, it was of key importance to force the enemy to engage in battle. If both sides wanted to fight, there would be a so-called redoubling of forces and the side that achieved the tactical advantage won. In preparation, the time the enemy needed to organise resistance was of crucial significance. It was also necessary to make full use of individual successes. A good operational plan additionally took into consideration a number of eventual outcomes. In the case of failure, it would be necessary to prepare fortified camps, fortresses, passages, and bridgeheads.135 Lines for the invasion of a province Decker called operation lines of attack (Operationslinien des Angriffs). Every province had points whose capture was essential for imposing control. Decker called them nourishment-, defensive-, living-, and shield-points (Nähr-, Wehr-, Lebens- und Schirm-Punkte). These points constituted concentrations of forces and fortresses. Another target was the central point (Mittelpunkt) of forces, which was not always the provincial capital. The 133 Ibid., 208–215. 134 Ibid., 74–82. 135 Ibid., 217–224.

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Schirm-punkte were located either close or further from the border. They had to be identified and become a subject of the operation. Paris was the Mittelpunkt for France while it remained intact, which is why France was easily defeated once the capital was taken. The situation was different in the case of Prussia, where the capital did not play such a role. The Prussian capital was in enemy hands, for instance, during the 1813 campaign. Although it was partly due to circumstances, and Berlin was a target for the enemy, its loss did not in any way end the war. In Decker’s opinion, this showed the disadvantage of locating the central point in the capital during a defensive war. Proceeding into the province, the invader would first capture fortresses, which would then facilitate attacking the capital, though a primary assault was not necessarily a mistake. Sometimes it was better to avoid the fortress and immediately fight the main battle. This was determined by circumstances. Such was the nature of the Coalition’s campaigns against France in 1814 and 1815, when the fortresses were left under observation, although there was no people’s war (Volkskrieg) in France on that occasion. The third type of point were the Bewegungs- or ­Strategische-Punkte. Their significance was considerably stronger during defensive wars than offensive ones. But yet again, the province preserved their significance and lines of movement could take any course, depending on what position was taken by the enemy. Therefore, there was no point in creating an operational plan beyond the first concentration of enemy troops. The next goal was always the defeat of the enemy, for the purpose of which one should mobilise the largest possible number of soldiers. An army comprising a large number of corps marching along various lines of movement needed to converge from many directions to face the enemy, which required determining a ­concentration point. That the attack should be facing the enemy was universally recognised and accepted as a rule. Examples of the consequence of selecting the concentration point hinter der Feinde were demonstrated by the Austrians in 1809 and the Coalition after crossing the Rhine in 1814. Mistakes, however, did not form rules. The situation with Napoleon in 1812 was different, when his troops were distant from the Russians, he selected his concentration point in territories to the east of the Vistula, which gave him an additional advantage.136 Defensive measures were much more limited than those of offensive operations and fell into main categories: seeking out the enemy, trying to identify their direction of movement, and, if possible, intercepting their plans of attack, or limiting their actions to defence so as to extend deeper into the country and wear down the enemy’s offensive (Ermattung). The general rule was 136 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 98–106.

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that offensive elements included in the defensive were more beneficial. Manoeuvres occurred more frequently in defensive wars than in offensive ones, because, in accordance with Napoleon’s advice, it was better to avoid engaging in battle when lacking the advantage. Napoleon followed this rule in the 1814 campaign. It is difficult, however, to defeat the enemy with manoeuvres. In offensives this was a second choice, but the first choice in defence. All the great leaders and theoreticians perceived manoeuvres as means to a goal, not a goal in itself. Another important element in defensive wars were positions, which had to be selected correctly both from a tactical and strategic perspective.137 In the context of the defensive plan, two instances may be discerned. In the first, only part of the forces were deployed to defend, while the main forces were carrying out the offensive. The defending forces should not seek to resolve the conflict, but perform the task at hand while avoiding battle or engaging only in minor skirmishes. Among the available means at their disposal, Decker included taking up good positions, using manoeuvres to gain time, and observing the enemy. The first case meant a position war, the remaining two were types of a post war (Postenkrieg). If the whole army was engaged in defending, the plan could only be general, because of the need to make modifications depending on enemy actions. The commander should be unconstrained in his actions. Although it was not possible to avoid fighting major battles in defence, one should not actively seek them. Battles could be perceived as either an attack on the enemy if there was an advantage, or remaining on stand-by in battle formation. It was in the defenders’ interest in prolonging the confrontation because they had supplies and fortresses to fall back on. They could also involve the local population as a military force.138 In Ansichten, Decker stated two factors that determined the nature of defence: whether the border was open and the relative strength of the opposing forces. If the forces were equally balanced, it was better for the defenders to wait for the enemy to act first, but not withdraw into the province. In this case, it was necessary to take up positions close to the border and engage in battle at the first opportunity, for avoiding battle would only negatively affect the morale of the defending troops. If the enemy were stronger, then it needed to be determined whether they were moving en masse or in several separate corps. The first case was rare and if it occurred, the solution was to withdraw step by step, relying on points of support (fortresses, etc.). The withdrawal could be directed to a central point, or instead a flanking position could be taken. A flanking position was referred to in literature as a mistake. This is because one should not avoid battle by retreating to one point, as 137 [Decker], Grundzüge, 87–101. 138 Ibid., 224–230.

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there had to be a line allowing for retreat. More frequent was the case of the enemy attacking in detached corps. Taking up a defensive central point in that event would provide the enemy with an opportunity to surround the defenders with overwhelming forces. To beat corps individually required manoeuvring, and withdrawing meant ceding large swathes of territory. Both variants of action should be modelled on the Napoleonic campaigns, especially those of 1796 and 1814. The lesson they provided was simple: one should manoeuvre in such a way that at each point one is as strong as possible. The exact opposite of this were the actions of the Austrians against the Kingdom of Prussia in 1757. Frederick the Great selected his concentration point in Prague, so far beyond the enemy line that if events had not turned out the way they did, it would cost him dearly. However, he knew the nature of his opponent, and that is why knew he could take the risk. Were it not for the defeat at Kolín, Prussia would have taken Bohemia. The considerations above refer to defence with an open border. On the other hand, a border could be closed by a river or mountains. In either case, the leading issue was points where the border could be crossed. Frederick the Great stressed that a river border was more difficult to defend, unlike Rogniat, who greatly appreciated the defensive properties of river borders.139 As a supplement to these consideration on defence was Decker’s understanding of the ‘small war’. In contrast to Rühle von Lilienstern, he supported systematisation of the issue. The ‘small war’ was, in Decker’s opinion, an ambiguously perceived concept. Some considered it to be a war of lightly armed formations, others that it involved small detachments, and yet others that it was a ‘great war’ on a small scale.140 Decker said a ‘small war’ had two main objectives: to protect one’s own army and to harass the enemy. Therefore, he included in this category all the movements and clashes of light troops aimed at protecting their own forces or attacking the enemy’s rear, flanks, magazines, transports, or couriers. He considered the involvement of armed inhabitants in defence of their homeland to be a feature of the ‘small war’.141 Decker’s considerations on this subject were continued in Der kleine Krieg im Geiste der neueren Kriegführung, first published in 1819 and reprinted many times. In his introduction, he repeated doubts as to the definitions of the term ‘small war’ in contemporary literature. He argued that the difference did not concern the adjectives ‘great’ and ‘small’, because a ‘small war’ occurred alongside a ‘great war’, and was only partly subordinate to it. Decker, moreover, rejected the statement 139 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 125–136. 140 Ibid., 1st Ed., 342. 141 Ibid., 343.

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that ‘small wars’ involved light units, because light units were also used in ‘great wars’, and conversely, heavy units were sometimes used in ‘small wars’ albeit in a limited way. He also did not entirely agree with Valentini’s proposal, because it did not consider the fact that one could inflict damage on the enemy without fighting a battle. Decker stated that during a war, an army could be seen in position, marching, and in battle. In each of these situations, be it a ‘small war’ or a ‘great war’, one had to consider the possibility of attacking and defeating the enemy. Defeating the enemy required a battlefield. Common sense dictated that in all circumstances one should guard oneself against the enemy. In addition, one needed to study the enemy’s intentions and what was possible to realise in order to defeat the enemy. Armies did not, however, act as a single mass. They were divided into units with individually assigned tasks, dub-targets to be achieved by subunits. Thus, the ‘small war’ comprised: security (Sicherheitskrieg) for the army as a whole when stationary or marching, creation and maintainance of communication through reconnaissance (Rekognoscirungskrieg), protection battles (Schutzgefechte), and wars of parties (Postenkrieg or Krieg der Partheien) in which an independent division was no longer practiced.142 To these elements, Decker said another could be added: inflicting damage on the enemy without engaging in battle, which sometimes could be more effective than grand scale operations. This element was similar to partisan warfare, which Decker considered to be a phenomenon that differed from the ‘small war’. The chief goal of a partisan war was to weaken an enemy one could not defeat. While distinguishing it from a ‘small war’ Decker did not consider it to be an element of a ‘great war’. There was a distinction between regular (related) and irregular (unrelated) actions. Here, Decker used a mathematical formula: partisan warfare had the same square root as the ‘great war’, but its exponent was much smaller. For this reason partisan warfare could not be included in ‘small wars’, though Decker decided it needed to be mentioned.143 Doubts about this distinction was expressed by Friedrich Wilhelm von Bismarck, who reviewed Decker’s work in mlz.144 He believed that Decker had unnecessarily divided war into distinct categories. The adjectives ‘great’ and ‘small’ seemed meaningless, though the reviewer did appreciate the didactic value of making distinctions. A ‘great war’ was waged by well-trained troops, organically associated with the army, conducting operations in time and space until the end of the crisis, which was usually a battle. A ‘small war’ 142 Decker, Der kleine Krieg, 3rd Ed., 1–4. 143 Ibid., 106. 144 Bismarck, ‘Der kleine Krieg’, 204–221; Decker referred to this criticism in the second edition of Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 410–411.

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was waged by less well-trained and less numerous troops attacking diverse enemy buildings, lines of communication, munitions, and supplies. The former could be perceived as an independent planet and the latter as its satellite. In the ‘great war’, all the forces were united to fight the decisive battle as soon as possible, whereas the ‘small war’ rather concerned parts of a problem. The arcane secrets of the ‘small war’ ought to be known by every nation that was incapable of waging a ‘great war’ and was threatened by the superior forces of a more powerful enemy.145 For this reason, Bismarck also disputed the exclusion of Partheigänger from the definition of the ‘small war’. Partisan warfare and ‘small wars’ were both satellites of the ‘great war’ and not a separate category. Just as a planet could have more than one satellite, so too a ‘great war’ more than one ‘small war’.146 According to Bismarck, Partheigänger and ‘small war’ were to a large extent one and the same. The ‘great war’ was aimed directly against enemy forces, whereas the ‘small war’ was directed more against enemy resources (Hilfsquellen). The latter used irregular and light troops to attack depots, magazines, transports, roads, etc. Whether the enemy was beaten with the sword or by hunger was not important. Anything that weakened the enemy was an asset to the ‘great war’. The ‘small war’ was waged in the home country and was more useful for defenders than for invaders. The ‘great war’ played out in the enemy’s country.147 The above considerations demonstrate the importance that was attached to the concept of the ‘small war’ in Prussian military literature after 1815. Yet, despite the numerous studies, it was difficult to point to a consensus regarding its definition or relation to war per se. What is significant, nonetheless, is that the dispute was ontological in nature, whereas with regard to elements of the ‘small war’ there was general agreement. Analysis of the views on strategy contained in works endorsed with the name of Carl von Decker lead to several conclusions. Although Decker’s authorship of views expressed in the two most important works cannot be fully confirmed, they clearly follow the same theoretical assumptions. Regardless of whether Decker was the actual author or co-author, both works are now inextricably linked with his name. Thus, both constitute a testimony of the understanding of strategy by Prussian General Staff officers, an influential representative of which Decker certainly was. Kessel’s opinion that Decker’s works are of an eclectic nature is apparent. Decker certainly accepted the changes that had occurred in the art of war, especially the moral aspects of armed conflict. He also fully appreciated the genius of Napoleon, whose campaigns, alongside 145 Bismarck, ‘Der kleine Krieg’, 206–207. 146 Ibid., 216. 147 Ibid., 219–220.

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those of Frederick the Great, were the chief source of examples illustrating particular issues. Leadership for him was an immeasurable art, and all theorising had an exclusively didactic dimension. Experience, knowledge, and natural talent were assumed to be decisive in real situations. Decker perceived war to be a tool of politics, a point of view that was not isolated in Prussian reflection on war, nor was it an alien opinion to French theoreticians, evidence of which is contain in the work of Rogniat. On the other hand, despite declarations on the impracticality of purely strategy concepts, Decker’s works contain discussions regarding a conceptual grid in attempts to apply a scientific approach to the art of war. A particular role was played by the nomenclature from the works of Bülow, towards whom Decker had a specific attitude. Although he rejected the assumptions behind Bülow’s theory, Decker accepted its particular elements, which seems not fully logical. Despite the declared utilitarian use of concepts such as ‘object’ and ‘line’ to simplify the message, the approach results in a paradox. All is painfully vague, with too many divisions and typologies that in no way can form a coherent whole. Contrary to its claimed usefulness, the application of the traditional conceptual grid blurred rather than clarified the issues. This is seen in the context of Rogniat famous ‘operational base’. Despite his admiration for Napoleon’s achievements, Decker accepted the assumptions of the ‘methodical art of war’. Perhaps this was the effect of a conviction that Prussia was a country that could not afford to wage war in the Napoleonic manner. This was reflected in his promoted scheme of operational planning, which was essentially the abstract approach that Clausewitz so despised. Although Decker stressed the pointlessness of creating long-term plans detached from what was happening at present, the method of perception he proposed was largely based on material elements, including permanent terrain features. A special role in this concept was played by all kinds of fortresses and fortified positions, which created a constellation of points with different utilities, but above all forming the operational base. This approach stemmed from the conviction that war was an enterprise that needed to be thoroughly prepared. This attitude reflected the point of view Prussian General Staff chiefs instilled int their subordinates, which could also be considered eclectic. Consequently, Decker should be considered a representative of the ‘romantic’ trend in Prussian reflections about the art of war, albeit not a typical one. It was a synthesis of various old and new elements that was characteristic of Prussian military thought in the years 1815–1830.

Chapter 12

The Art of War from the Point of View of Georg Wilhelm von Valentini The works written by Georg Wilhelm von Valentini are virtually forgotten today. According to his biographer, Roswitha Poll, the misfortune of writing on subjects closely related to those of Clausewitz, like many other Prussian military theoreticians of the time, were overshadowed by the author of Vom Kriege.1 Valentini is primarily remembered for his lively correspondence with Georg Heinrich von Berenhorst,2 an excellent source of knowledge about the age of reforms for many German scholars,3 in addition to his service on the staffs of Ludwig Yorck von Wartenburg and Friedrich Wilhelm Bülow von Dennewitz during the Wars of Liberation.4 Remaining aspects of his biography, in particular his theoretical opinions and service after 1815, remain virtually unknown.5 Apart from the unpublished biography by Poll, no one has carried out a thorough analysis of Valentini’s theoretical views, and references to him are of a casual nature. An analysis of studies prior to 1945 lead one to conclude that his writings and achievements were depreciated. Although Troschke described him as an insightful writer, excellent soldier, friend of Yorck and Berenhorst, and patron of Brandt, his description of Valentini’s Lehre vom Kriege is brief, the assessment limited to the number of republications and reviews in mlz.6 In 1873, Beiheft zum Militär-Wochenblatt included Valentini among the classics of reflection on tactics, but his works were deemed to be ‘craftsmanlike’ without taking into account spiritual aspects.7 Max Jähns was positive about Valentini’s contribution to the development of the theory of the ‘small war’, stressing 1 Poll, Valentini, 1, 182. 2 G.H. von Berenhorst, Aus dem Nachlasse von Georg Heinrich von Berenhorst, ed. E. von Bülow, vol. 1–2 (Dessau, 1845–1847). 3 J.G. Droysen, Das Leben des Feldmarschalls Grafen York von Wartenburg, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1854); Meinecke, Das Leben, vol. 2, 171; Poll, Valentini, 1. 4 Cf. Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 107; Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 127. 5 Poll also devotes little space in her work to the post-1815 period; Poll, Valentini, 170–181. Despite a very earnest approach to the research, most probably for quite objective reasons, she did not have full access to his military correspondence in the Boyen collection, mainly concerning the fortification of Glogau, e.g. GStA pk, vi. ha, Boyen, No. 1, Valentini to Boyen, Glogau, 7th September 1816, 7. On the problem of access to archive sources: Poll, Valentini, 2–4. 6 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 107. 7 [Meerheimb], ‘Ueber Militair-Bildung’, 34.

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the response to his views at the turn of the 19th century.8 The opinions of later authors were decidedly more critical. Rudolf von Caemmerer recognised Valentini as a model example of the inspiration of Archduke Charles in Germany. He believed that Valentini’s published works contained a number of valid principles, indicating, especially in comparison with the claims of A.H.D. von Bülow and Jomini, that the author was open-minded. On the other hand, Valentini’s acceptance of the concept of key points (Schlüsseltheorie) showed that he had fallen under the influence of an obsolete 18th-century.9 Böckmann considered Valentini’s publications to be the first serious attempt to consider the essence of war after 1815. Although these works were based on extensive military and historical knowledge, Böckmann felt Valentini did not fully appreciated changes that had occurred in the waging of war. His description of the modern art of war contained rules that had by then been abandoned.10 Cochenhausen considered Valentini to be a significant figure, albeit of secondary importance in the development of military thought in the first half of the 19th century compared to Jomini, Clausewitz, and Rühle.11 He included Valentini, along with Willisen, in a circle of supporters of Jomini and considered his works to constitute an important part of the theoretical achievements in the 1820s and 30s. Assessing his views, however, Cochenhausen repeated virtually verbatim the opinion of Caemmerer that Valentini was inspired by the ideas of Archduke Charles, and references in literature after the Second World War repeat these opinions.12 Cochenhausen was more favourable towards the theses of Valentini proposed by Poll.13 In present historiography, Valentini is presented as one of a number of leading representatives of Prussian ‘romantic’ military thought in the first half of the 19th century.14 Francophone authors stress the correlation of Valentini’s views with those of Archduke Charles and Jomini,15 consistent with opinions expressed in Jomini’s Précis.16 More frequent are ­references to Valentini’s work on the ‘small war’, with some authors even

8 Jähns, Geschichte, vol. 21 (Munich and Leipzig, 1891), 2724–2725. 9 Caemmerer, Die Entwickelung, 56–57. 10 Böckmann, ‘Das geistige Erbe’, 125–126. 11 Cochenhausen, ‘Klassiker’, 243. 12 Carrias, La pensée, 179; Marwedel, Carl von Clausewitz, 190. 13 Poll, Valentini, 1, footnote 5, 182, footnote 900. 14 Gat, The Development, 46–49; Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 285, 297; Langendorf, ‘Karl Wilhelm von Willisen: le stratégiste qui voulut être stratège’, Langendorf, La pensée, 472; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 323, 364. 15 Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 199, 212; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 364. 16 Jomini, Précis, 19–20.

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t­ reating him as the classic authority.17 His general image, however, is considered a ­typical representation of ‘romantic’ military thought compared with that of Clausewitz. Poll’s analysis of Valentini’s relations with important figures in the Prussian army includes him among leading reformers, a conclusion that is not entirely justified.18 According to Poll, he was a typical officer from poor nobility, who to his dying days remained primarily a Jäger, viewing the world through the prism of the education he had received in his regiment. His opinions on social issues had been shaped by the army and increasingly evolved in the direction of conservatism, particularly after 1815. This attitude included devotion to the king, and a growing aversion to any form of disobedience and uncivilized forms of warfare, including, in his opinion, popular uprisings. His ideal was to serve in the field during wartime, which he contrasted with ‘learned officers’, whom he considered the antithesis of a genius leader operating beyond rules. This was a paradox, since he clearly belonged to that very group of officers; his post as General Inspector of Military Education and Training (General-Inspekteur des Militär-Erziehungs- und Bildungswesens), which he held in the years 1828–1834, was the crown of his career. He called his service in the field his ‘unhappy love’, but he actually valued it more than his achievements as a writer, general staff member, and diplomat. According to Poll, a characteristic feature of Valentini’s views was inconsistency. The views he expressed in specific situations contrasted with those recorded in his books, which was likely due to his personal relationships with certain individuals.19 Valentini’s two main mentors were Berenhorst and Yorck. There was a deep personal friendship with the former, and following his death, Valentini was a consultant for the publication of texts concerning Berenhorst.20 The correspondence he maintained with Berenhorst must have had a considerable influence on his understanding of the art of war and his appraisal of other Prussian military thinkers, insofar as Berenhorst is considered one of the initiators of the ‘romantic’ trend in Prussian military

17 Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 241–242; Heuser, The Evolution, 114, 391–392; M. Strohn, ‘Valentini Lieutnant General Georg Wilhelm von (1775–1834)’, Philosophers of War, vol. 1, 322; Wyszczelski, Teorie wojenne, 260. 18 Cf. Brose, The Politics, 75–77. 19 Poll, Valentini, 82–83, 178–179, 182–188. 20 ‘Georg Heinrich v. Berenhorst, Verfasser der Betrachtungen über die Kriegskunst. 60–77. This biographical sketch was published a year later after subsequent edition Berenhorst’s thoughts; Berenhorst, Betrachtungen über die Kriegskunst, über ihre Fortschritte, ihre Widersprüche und ihre Zuverlässigkeit. Auch für Laien verständlich, wenn sie nur Geschichte wissen, 3rd Ed. (Berlin, 1827).

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thought.21 This led to the inclusion of Valentini in the group of reformers, though in many respects the views of the two were at odds. Both had a high regard for Bülow, whom Valentini regarded as brilliant thinker who, nevertheless, erred in promoting too schematic and abstract solutions.22 Influenced by Berenhorst, Valentini was critical of Scharnhorst, who for him epitomised the ‘learned officer’ (gelehrten Offizier).23 Scharnhorst was for him only a skilful schoolmaster (Schulmeister) who ignored, more than all the rules in his dictionaries and textbooks, the importance of actual implementation. A thorough military education, one not borne out in practice, was what Valentini called ‘pedantry’, which, as Poll notes, was a paradoxical comment to be made by such a prolific military writer.24 Valentini’s opinion was influenced as well by Yorck, who was equally dismissive of the purpose of military education and in favour of commanding with common sense. Therefore, Valentini was critical of the activities of Militärische Gesellschaft officers associated with Scharnhorst, even though he belonged to that circle, with his role there becoming that of a critical observer. As Poll notes, his reluctance towards Scharnhorst did not mean a total rejection of his teachings, the influence of which is apparent in Valentini’s writings.25 That his dislike of Scharnhorst was personal is testified by Valentini’s close friendship with Gneisenau, with whom he cooperated in organising the army in East Prussia in 1807.26 In their correspondence (which was highly confidential), Valentini presented the idea of a popular uprising, a ‘Prussian Vendée’, i.e., an uprising in defence of the king and the Christian faith.27 This idea was born at a time when the Prussian monarchy was in crisis, which Poll considers to be a highpoint in Valentini’s support for the reform 21

R. Bahn, Georg Heinrich von Berenhorst, der Verfasser der „Betrachtungen über die Kriegskunst“ (Halle, 1911); Gat, The Origins, 150–155; Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 6–20; Kessel, ‘Georg Heinrich von Berenhorst, ein Anhaltinischer Geschichtsschreiber und Theoretiker der Kriegskunst am Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts’, Sachsen und Anhalt (1933), 161–198. 22 Poll, Valentini, 42–44. 23 Valentini, for example, believed that the debate over the Militärische Gesellschaft statute had lasted longer than the writing of the constitution in France. For this reason, in their correspondence, both Valentini and Berenhorst satirically referred the society the ‘military Sorbonne’ or the ‘Potsdam branch of the Sorbonne’; ibid., 53–57. 24 Poll points to Valentini’s frequent use of the term ‘Penebilität’, meaning ascribing too much importance to book knowledge with a lack of natural abilities; ibid., 29, footnote 137. 25 Ibid., 185–185. 26 Ibid., 72–83; Pertz, Das Leben, vol. 1: 1760 bis 1810 (Berlin, 1880), 152–159. 27 ‘Valentini an Gneisenau, Schirwind (Nachlass Gneisenau), 7.3.1807’, Poll, Valentini, appendix, 189–193.

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programme.28 Characteristically, in later years Valentini criticised such ideas as uncivilised and dangerous. During the 1813 campaign, he fell into dispute with Gneisenau, which stemmed from rivalry between Blücher and Yorck. Yorck was deeply worried by the fact that command of the Army of Silesia had been given to Blücher, whom he considered to be an irresponsible ‘general of the Hussars’, incapable of independently taking decisions and wholly reliant on subordinates. He received honours due to his popularity among radicals and was assigned to missions beyond his abilities. To make matters worse, his staff included Gneisenau and Müffling, which meant they would in actuality command all operations. Yorck considered Gneisenau to have a completely impractical mind, prone to exultation; every encounter with him had been unpleasant. The presence of the scrupulous Müffling, on the other hand, lead Blücher to hand over complete command. This was in sharp contrast to Yorck’s staff, over which the general had complete authority, with a strict hierarchy and fully imposed order. He resisted delegating command to younger officers, who would impose bold and unrealistic tasks on the troops. For Yorck, this was a conflict between practitioners and theoreticians.29 Valentini shared the fears of his superior and felt obliged to defend his point of view against the accusations of the Army of Silesia command under Blücher. Against this background, there was an angry exchange of letters between Valentini and Gneisenau, whose apogee was a supposed duel. The two generals reconciled in 1814, and resumed their friendship. According to Poll, Valentini criticised Blücher’s headquarters for elements he had often recommended in his own works. The polemics with his friend, in Poll’s opinion, was entirely due to the influence of Yorck and attachment to his headquarters, whose interests he felt compelled to defend. Poll expressed the supposition that if Valentini had been assigned to Blücher, he would have had opposite views on the matter, all the more so because in the past he had admired ‘Marshal Forwards’.30 This shows a specific feature of Valentini’s personality, but hinders a full understanding of his views that could change in relation to specific persons and situations. This is illustrated by his relationship with Clausewitz, whom he replaced in 1812. He agreed with some of his views, but had an unparalleled dislike for him, which Poll describes as incomparable even with his relationship with Scharnhorst. The 28 Poll, Valentini, 82–83. 29 Droysen, Das Leben, vol. 2, 224–226. This appraisal corresponds with descriptions of command styles of Blücher and Gneisenau in chapter 8, which were provided by Müffling, who considered both as people acting instinctively without greater thought. The standard action proposed by Müffling, however, was also rather distant from Yorck’s concepts. 30 Poll, Valentini, 18, 151–156, 166, 186; Pertz, Delbrück, Das Leben, vol. 4, 187–193.

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main reason was what he perceived as Clausewitz’s exceptional arrogance.31 His conservative views and relation with leading members of the reform camp did not have a positive effect on the way Valentini was perceived in Second Reich historiography. He was considered to be an important figure for a time, but in the long run old fashioned. Today he is primarily perceived through his correspondence with Berenhorst. Despite these reservations, in the period after 1815 Valentini was an unquestioned authority in Prussian reflections on war, the confirmation of which was his appointment to the post of General Inspector. His writing career was highlighted by his three-part publication of Die Lehre vom Kriege in the years 1820– 1824. Even before that, however, he had become known as the author of reflections on the 1809 campaign,32 and above all as an expert on the subject of the ‘small war’. Studies of the ‘small war’ summed his experiences as a an officer of light infantry in the 1792–1794 campaign.33 The first publication of his work, was the anonymously entitled Abhandlung über den kleinen Krieg in 1799, and by 1810 it was renewed twice.34 These considerations also appeared in 1820 as the first part of Die Lehre vom Kriege, and in this version was republished twice.35 In Poll’s opinion, although it maintained to a large extent an 18th-­ century understanding of the art of war, the work can be included among the classics regarding the ‘small war’.36 Most later authors referred to Valentini’s 31 Poll, Valentini, 128–129. 32 G.W. von Valentini, Versuch einer Geschichte des Feldzugs von 1809 an der Donau, 1st Ed. (Berlin und Stettin, 1812); 2nd Ed. (1818). The work was based on Valentini’s own experiences in this conflict; Poll, Valentini, 105–112. 33 Poll, Valentini, 10–18; Valentini also published memoirs regarding his participation in that campaign; [Valentini], Erinnerungen eines alten Preussischen Officiers aus den Feldzügen von 1792, 1793 und 1794 in Frankreich und am Rhein (Glogau und Leipzig, 1833). 34 [Valentini], Abhandlung über den kleinen Krieg und über den Gebrauch der leichten Truppen mit Rücksicht auf den französischen Krieg von einem preußischen Offizier der leichten Truppen. Mit Anm. von L.S. von Brenkenhoff, Königl. Preuß. Major der Cavallerie und des Verdienstordens Ritter (Berlin, 1799); 2nd Ed. (Berlin, 1802); 3rd Ed. (Berlin, 1810). 35 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 1: Der kleine Krieg und die Gefechtlehre or Abhandlung über den kleinen Krieg und über den Gebrauch der leichten Truppen mit Rücksicht auf den französischen Krieg, 4th Ed., expanded (Berlin, 1820); 5th Ed. (Berlin, 1829); 6th Ed. (Berlin, 1833). 36 Here, I would like to refer to the claims of Lech Wyszczelski, who in his discussion of the theory of 19th-century partisan warfare used Valentini’s work as an example. This, of course, should be recognised as a complete misunderstanding, for as has already been noted, Valentini was a decided opponent of all insurrectionist forms of warfare. Furthermore, the Polish scholar’s statement about the Italian origins of Valentini can only be considered curious. Poll cites Valentini’s family history, which very clearly shows the first mention of the family name in the parish register of Großenlinden near Gießen, Hesse-Darmstadt, in 1532. At the time, the family name was ‘Velten’, and the Italian form

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theses, though did not duplicating his constructions.37 Clausewitz likewise had a positive opinion of his works in this field, considering them full of useful examples, though somewhat lacking in historical perspective.38 Poll believes this was the work that opened theway to his further career, as well as his acquaintance with Berenhorst.39 For Poll, however, Valentini’s most important work was Türkenkrieg, first published in 1822 (as the third part to Die Lehre vom Kriege), which by 1833 had been translated into three other languages, including Polish.40 The inspiration for this work was Valentini’s participation in the Russo-Turkish War in 1810–1811, which he spent in the headquarters of his friend, Duke Eugen of Württemberg.41 This friendship was to lead, however, to a serious conflict. In the second edition of his work, Valentini included some critical remarks regarding Hans Karl von Diebitsch’s command of Russian forces in the 1828–1829 war. Diebitsch had verbally attacked the Duke of Württemberg and Valentini felt obliged to defend his friend. The work provoked a scandal, outraging Tsar Nicholas I and Diebitsch himself, who refused to have anything to do with the author.42 In Prussia, both editions of the work were well received.43 Clausewitz, on the other hand, called it a ‘trifle’ (peu de chose). He nevertheless recommended it to Gneisenau as a source of knowledge regarding the 1810–1811 campaign, though he did not agree with treating the

‘Valentinus’ or ‘Valentini’ was only added later, circa 1625, as a result of a then popular Romanisation (Poll, Valentini, 5–6). All the more unjustified is Wyszczelski’s assertion that the Prussian general Valentini should consider the liberation of Italy, as this was quite contrary to his origins and personal convictions, facts the historian’s book quite overlooks; Wyszczelski, Teorie wojenne, 260. 37 Poll, Valentini, 29–32. On the work and its significance, also see: Jähns, Geschichte der Kriegswissenchaften, vol. 21, 2724–2725. 38 ‘Meine Vorlesungen über den kleinen Krieg, gehalten auf der Kriegs-Schule 1810 und 1811. – Artillerie. Geschütze’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 1 (Göttingen, 1966), 444–446. 39 Poll, Valentini, 33. 40 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 3: Türkenkrieg, 1st Ed. (Berlin, 1822); 2nd Ed. (Berlin, 1830); 3rd Ed. (Berlin, 1833). Polish translation; Valentini, O wojnie tureckiéj, przez króleskopruskiego generała Valentini w niemieckim języku r. 1822 wydane, przez Pułkownika Meciszewskiego na polski język przełożone (Warsaw, 1829). The Polish edition does not include fragments concerning the ideal campaign plan against Turkey. A list of translations into other languages: Poll, Valentini,124–126. 41 Poll, Valentini, 113–118. 42 Ibid., 126–127; Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 40. 43 C….y, ‘Die Lehre vom Krieg’, mlz 4, 2 (1823), 89–107; 3 (1823), 197–211; ‘Der Türkenkrieg. Von dem General-Lieutenant Freiherrn v. Valentini. Zweite Ausgabe. Mit acht Planen und einer Ansicht von Schumla. Berlin im Verlage J.W. Boike, 1830’, mwb 15, 713 (1830), 4228.

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‘Turkish war’ as a separate type of conflict.44 Due to its specific and outdated subject, the work today is all but forgotten, but at its time it was the most widely recognised work by Valentini.45 Research into strategy are represented by two volumes on the ‘great war’, which were published in 1822 and 1824.46 Despite an extensive and positive review in mlz,47 these volumes never gained the popularity of Valentini’s works on other subjects, only reprinted once. Already in 1818 Clausewitz had been critical of Valentini’s views, considering them to represent an anachronistic approach to the art of war. Clausewitz bemoaned at the same time that similar views were prevalent in Prussian high command and military literature, despite the experiences of the Napoleonic campaigns.48 Given that estimation, Valentini’s views on the ‘great war’ were recognised in the period, even if the recognition was short-lived.49 Poll herself does not devote much space to this work; Valentini’s views on the matter are still waiting research.50 Because of his position in the army and the widespread respect he enjoyed, his works were popular and can be regarded as classics of Prussian military thought in the 1820s,51 as confirmed by Decker’s frequent references. Considering the dates of renewal of his works, one might take into account the positions he held, in particular that of General Inspector. In any case, it strengthens the potential significance of his views on Prussian military thought in the year 1815–1830. Valentini’s focus on practical actions meant that most of subjects he dealt with are perceived in the sphere of tactics. Despite this, the extent of his oeuvre allows us to define his views on strategy.52

44

‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 5. Oktober 1822’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 415–416. 45 See Trąbski, Armia, 196. 46 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2: Krieg im Grossen or Abhandlung über den Krieg in Beziehung auf große Operationen mit Rücksicht auf die neueren Kriege, vol. 1–2, 1st Ed. (Berlin, 1821–1824); 2nd Ed. (Berlin, 1833–1834). 47 The review only concerned the first volume; [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 781–792; 5 (1821), 855–873. The anonymous author of the review was Decker, as is revealed by a footnote referring to Ansichten; ibid., 5 (1821), 856, footnote *. Troschke also believes Decker was the author of the review; Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 107. 48 ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Koblenz, 15. Mai 1818’, Clausewitz, Schriften – Aufsätze, vol. 2, part 1, 328. 49 In 1822, Wenzell included him among the most important German authors writing about ‘great operations’, alongside Theobald and Archduke Charles; Wenzell, ‘Considerations’, 4 (1822), 317. 50 Poll, Valentini, 162–169. 51 Hoyer, Litteratur, 444–445; Rumpf, Allgemeine, vol. 1, 171. 52 Due to the specificity of this subject, I have decided to omit the main part of Valentini’s reflections on the ‘Turkish war’, and refer only to those parts of the work that shed light on his views regarding strategy.

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Although according to Poll, Valentini had received a thorough general education,53 his aversion to abstract deliberations makes reflections on the nature of war in his works void. In the introduction to his first volume on the ‘great war’ he provides an explanation of his attitude to the art of war. The ­science of war (Lehre vom Kriege) was, in his opinion, based solely on empirical science (Erfahrungswissenschaft). Citing Berenhorst, he rejected the idea of leading a campaign according to scientific principles, which he opposed to common sense. Ever since Maurice of Orange various attempts to establish systems in Europe existed. The French Revolutionary Wars eliminated the concept of waging war by taking up positions and applying cordons. Supporters of the latter system argued that by confronting the enemy with positions (Postengefechte) and strategic moves it was possible to resolve conflicts without major battles. Archduke Charles had argued against this, pointing to the advantage of a concentrated mass of troops against divided units. Bonaparte’s successes confirmed this argument, creating rules based on it. According to Valentini, no system could be relied upon and that war should be waged on the basis of common sense, the ability to skilfully take advantage of opportunities with decisive action. Great leaders always went beyond and altered rules, although their actions then served as the basis for new rules and outlines for subsequent systems. Therefore, rather than inventing rules, one should rely on the ‘nature of things’ (Natur der Sache) and common sense (gesunde Vernunft). Despite this, mistakes continued to be made in war due to the lack of time and possibility to make the right decisions under pressure and the accumulation of other factors. The art of war required more ability (Können) than knowledge (Wissen). Despite this, Valentini believed that common sense still required experience. Without acquiring learning of certain concepts one could not operate confidently in the phenomenon of war.54 Valentini’s approach was appreciated by Decker, who agreed to the description of contemporary military literature as Militair-Schreibesucht (an addiction for writing). Although one could learn the art of war, it could not be taught from books, although books did have certain advantages. The reviewer divided the art of war. One concerned the system (System), the other the spirit or essence (Geist oder Wesen). Prussian literature abounded in both parts, but most concerned the former. Valentini’s work, however, belonged to the latter category, combining reflections on the spirit and essence in a style that could be termed ‘book of books’. Decker appreciated that, unlike many military authors of the day, Valentini

53 Poll, Valentini, 183–184. 54 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 1–5.

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avoided excessive philosophical and polemical deliberations, which gave his book a practical dimension.55 Valentini was not alone in his convictions concerning the art of war. According to Poll, Valentini, Berenhorst, and Yorck contrasted the ‘scholarly’, ‘pedantic’, and ‘artificial’ approach to war, with a practice derived from sensible skills. Unlike Berenhorst, however, Valentini did not reject all rules, but instead tried to identify those that were derived from experience.56 These views signified that at the centre of Valentini’s understanding of the art of war stood the figure of the genius leader endowed with natural talent and skills. From his point of view, the 1809 campaign was a clash between two great figures: Napoleon and the Archduke Charles. The French owed their successes primarily to the genius of Napoleon, who did not make the same types of mistakes as his adversary.57 In the second volume on the ‘great war’, Valentini addressed the question of the genius leader. He believed that the actions of ‘heroes’ made all the ideas of ignorant persons outdated.58 In the previous century, such heroic figures had been Prince Eugene of Savoy, Frederick the Great, and Napoleon, who had no need for advisors. When they managed to surprise the enemy with the speed of manoeuvres kept in absolute secrecy, it was due to their self-will (Selbstherrschaft). Even when they made a mistake, it was a quirk of genius. Another indispensable trait of the genius leader was fortune59 and fortitude (Seelenstärke).60 These qualities were exceptions and less talented leaders had to rely on their subordinates.61 In the composition of headquarters, the commander-in-chief had to be a great manager (grosser Geschäftsmann), and thus it was necessary to create the post of chief of general staff to deal with details, so that the commander was free to deal with major issues. The chief of staff’s duties included providing information on the size of the forces, the condition of the army, the state of ammunition as well as the matter of uniforms, command, and discipline.62 The general staff were a special group whose members were not perceived as ordinary soldiers but rather as something akin to university professors. From Valentini’s experience, what was needed more than learned officers was people from the ranks of frontline units. Abstract knowledge alone was not enough for the war, experience of the frontline was essential in teaching the arcana of military 55 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 781–782, 792. 56 Poll, Valentini, 163–164. 57 Ibid., 108–111; Valentini, Versuch, 2nd Ed., vi–vii. 58 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 2, 1st Ed., vi. 59 Ibid., 306–307. 60 Ibid., 322. 61 Ibid., 309. 62 Ibid., 313–315.

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service and shaping the finest qualities in an officer.63 In Valentini’s case, consistent resistance to the ‘scholarly’ took the form of genuine depreciation of theoretical military education. This was partially contradictory to the approach of Müffling, who believed that knowledge and experience were both necessary in the creation of a modern soldier and commander. Valentini was of the opinion that no matter how much time and energy was devoted to the academic approach, it could provide only an illusion of abilities. Valentini emphasized the changes that had occurred in the art of war under the influence of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars. A distinctive feature of the old system was the consistent application of cordons, a slow and cumbersome form of actions based on calculations.64 Even the French in their Revolutionary Wars did not rise above their allies with a greater understanding of the art of war. For example, Lazare Carnot consistently applied his cordon system in planned operations.65 Poll notices in Valentini’s letters a thorough criticism of the way the Prussian army waged war towards the end of the 18th century. Valentini rejected the lack of decision, sluggishness, inconsequential manoeuvres, and reliance on antiquated supply system.66 He argued that the difference between an artist and a craftsman was that without years of study, based on only brief experience, the latter was able to achieve greater results. Meantime, in his opinion, a typical German characteristic was the assumption that all the preparations for war could be made during peacetime, and could predict the course of an operation using only a map with marked points and dispositions. This was absurd because the number of possible eventualities in a war was incalculable.67 Decker was a strong supporter of this view, who, according to Valentini, attacked with sarcasm major war projects in peacetime. Instead, planning should be limited to the commander independently deciding where to direct action and for how long.68 All calculations and illusions of planning were eliminated, in Valentini’s opinion, by the two chief products of the French Revolution: universal conscription and the requisition system. Being freed from magazines, bakeries, and supply trains, enabled commander to act more decisively and aggressively, which Valentini saw in the campaigns of Frederick the Great and Napoleon.69 The old system was annihilated by the new one, whose essence, according to Valentini, was speed, surprise, largescale 63 Ibid., 330–332. 64 Ibid., part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 118–121; Poll, Valentini, 15–18. 65 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part. 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 122–123. 66 Poll, Valentini, 17. 67 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 122–124. 68 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 857. 69 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 58.

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manoeuvres, and decisive battles.70 It would therefore seem that Valentini should have rejected defensive planning based on an assessment of terrain and attempts to predict an enemies’ reactions as a relic of the ‘pedantic’ approach to war. An analysis, however, indicates that he looked at the issue in more than one way. Poll points out that in Valentini opinion the escalation of violence in recent wars justified the creation of a defence system based on arming the people (Volksbewaffnung).71 The French Revolution example had influence on military operations. While German monarchs conducted war with professional standing armies, who had their own supplies and had no need to pillage the countryside, the civilian population had no need to arm themselves. All this changed with the requisition system, which forced inhabitants to defend their property. This led to a change in the relationship between the authorities and the people. The former could no longer wage wars relying solely on its own resources. Each government, therefore, acquired the right to put its subjects on a state of alert. However, without education and appropriate moral preparedness, all ordinances, even with coercion, would be fruitless. Valentini was opposed to the rapid increase of fanaticism and the nationalistic animosity of the Revolutionary period. As a rule, with the exception of the Vendée and Tyrolean uprisings, the Landsturm should not be deployed in battle en masse. Only in fortified places, camps with ramparts, and road blocks could such militias put up an effective resistance. Small units, in certain circumstances, could also act against enemy lines of communication. This, however, required the preparation of places-of-arms (Waffenplätze), ideally in cities and city-fortresses.72 In view of these facts, the principle of the modern Prussian defence system lay in the division of forces into smaller parts, so as to defend the country more effectively. It hindered the enemy from requisitioning and made it reliant on supply trains. Hence the idea of the operational base was returning to favour. Indispensable in this system were fortresses, fortified camps, and bridgeheads, limiting the enemy’s ability to threaten the rear. This way one could also win time. The main advantage, however, was that it effectively defended threatened border regions with units of the Landsturm with minimal support of regular army, thus leaving the main forces concentrated for the offensive on lines of operation. Keeping an enemy engaged in a struggle against obstacles and fortified positions provided the opportunity for surprise attacks, cutting him off from supplies, or moving the conflict to his own territory. Valentini 70

Valentini, ‘Ueber innere und äußere Operationslinien’, Valentini, Versuch, 2nd Ed., 293; Poll, Valentini, 109. 71 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 304–305; Poll, Valentini, 168. 72 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 2, 1st Ed., 257–263.

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considered not calling the Landsturm to arms in 1807 a mistake, though he knew that at the time universal conscription had not yet been legally instituted. Contrary to the claim that offensive war always provided an advantage, defensive war waged with the moral force of the whole nation was justified as effective. The initial advantage of attacking a neighbour faded once it encountered determined national forces. The effect of military action could be the destruction of territory, but not a permanent possession.73 This was a point of view close to the opinions expressed by Boyen and Grolman, which, nevertheless, confirmed the dominant role of a standing army. Inextricably linked was the question of the importance of fortresses and fortified camps, whose description Decker considered to be Valentini’s outstanding achievement.74 A prepared supply depot forced an enemy to take up disadvantageous siege positions. Forces had to be divided which meant that relative strengths between the two sides were altered and often more balanced. In such territories, major battles yielded less decisive results, as it was of more importance to control fortified points, as in the case of the line of fortresses in the north of France. According to Valentini, there had been an erosion of the significance of fortifications in recent wars, although they had not entirely lost their influence on operations. He considered it crucial for a belt of fortresses to be backed by the course of a major river. Germany would have nothing to fear from France if it possessed a belt of fortresses in Wesel, Cologne, Koblenz, Mainz, Mannheim, and Germersheim (which Valentini saw as bridgehead for Philippsburg), and preferably Strasbourg. The Romans understood the importance of locating fortresses along rivers and many cities on the Rhine began as fortified camps (e.g., Mainz, Bonn, Cologne, and Düsseldorf). Napoleon, all of whose projects were conducted in a grand style, seriously considered the banks of rivers. Fortifications on the Rhine ensured him an advantage in southern Germany. In the campaigns of 1805 and 1806, he prepared by putting fortresses on the Rhine in a state of readiness. After Jena and the destruction of the enemy, he was able to cross the Elbe, set up a support point in Wittenberg, lay siege to Torgau, and capture Magdeburg, which, together with holding Hamburg and Dresden, gave him full control of the Elbe. He next crossed the Oder and entered Poland. The Vistula ceased being an obstacle when Warsaw handed over all its bridges to his disposal. He nonetheless strengthened his positions with bridgeheads in Praga and Modlin, where the rivers Narew and Bug flow into the Vistula. However, after attempting a decisive Battle of Preußisch-­ Eylau, Napoleon proved to be a procrastinator; he could have taken Gdańsk as 73 74

Ibid., 300–305. [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 783–788.

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a first step in ­occupying territory up to the river Memel. According to Valentini, no one since Roman times understood the importance of rivers as well as Bonaparte. Until 1810, he ordered preparations on all major rivers. Napoleon began his 1812 campaign from a bridgehead at Tilsit on the river Memel. Valentini wondered whether instead of Moscow it might not have been better to march to the Dnieper river, spend the winter there, and annex the southern provinces of the former Polish Commonwealth. The most advantageous type of base was positioned along rivers, which was shown in the 1809 campaign when the lack of a fortress on the Danube enabled Napoleon to reach Vienna.75 These arguments were a response to accusations made by Rogniat.76 Unlike him, Valentini saw reliance on rivers as a constant element in Napoleon’s actions, one that provided the base his successes. Valentini’s views were equally characteristic regarding the significance and nature of fortifications. He considered the optimal size of fortresses and whether or not they should be located in cities. Graudenz, Josefstadt, and Theresienstadt were for him examples of modern cities-cum-fortresses which, as experience had shown, could serve as models. Small fortresses could easily be paralysed with a small forces or destroyed with mortars. Larger fortresses were more useful, as they retained their properties at all times of the year and in all conditions. Their advantage was usually due to their location in terms of communication. A new location would entail changes in the system of communication, which would be expensive and perhaps unfeasible. The best concept was to fortify cities and towns, which were naturally situated in strategic points. Approaches to such fortresses usually included a number of obstacles that could cost the attackers. According to Valentini, crucial in building a fortified defence system was making use of the capital and major provincial cities, where supplies could be concentrated. The fortification of an entire province such as Vauban, occupied by Louis xiv, was only possible in large states like those in old France which were not square-shaped and had few borders. Other countries had to make do with fortifying important points: major river crossings, mountain passes, coastlines, or places where a military stronghold was essential.77 The connection between fortifications and territory was a conventional postulate among Prussian military authors after 1815. Similar to Grolman 75 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 32–43. 76 Interestingly, this contradiction in views between the two generals was not noticed by Decker, who cites them alternately in his Ansichten, though he omits to cite Valentini’s positive appraisals of Napoleon’s actions. On the other hand, he quotes Valentini extensively on Bonaparte making use of rivers in his review, but in turn without making ­references to Rogniat; Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 53–60; [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 783–784. 77 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 45–49.

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and Boyen, Valentini considered major rivers as the basis for defensive operations that needed to be controlled by fortified crossings. His point of view was close to that of Clausewitz, who saw the sense of fortifying important cities. This opinion, however, was controversial among contemporary engineers, and required acceptance among the inhabitants, a point stressed by Decker in his review.78 Valentini’s views on contemporary war can hardly be considered clear or coherent. On one hand, he admired the Napoleonic system of offensive war, on the other, his views on defence were close to that of Boyen, based on thorough preparation during peacetime. The integral part of this concept regarding a ‘small war’ waged by regular troops appealed to Valentini. Here, one agrees with Poll’s opinion in reference to views expressed in his writings.79 Depending on a given situation and issue, he held contradictory views. Reasons can be found from the biography, experiences, and the worldview of a general whose works did not constitute a cohesive theoretical system, but rather loosely connected thoughts on various aspects of waging war. Decker stressed Valentini’s clear avoidance of a rigid schematisation of ideas.80 Langendorf was of a similar opinion, saying that Valentini had presented as full a panorama of the ‘great war’ as possible, from an empirical perspective but without schematisation.81 Valentini consistently used a conceptual grid to analyse the mechanics of war. Strategy and tactics together formed Kriegswissenschaften or Kriegskunst, including instructions about positions, movement, and fighting. Strategy concerned positions and movement without fighting (battle) or beyond the range of artillery, whereas tactics concerned position and movement during fighting or within the range of artillery.82 He had therefore modified Bülow’s definitions, but preserved their meanings. According to Valentini, the concepts of strategy and tactics were too closely related to ascribe specific features to either one. In tactics, it was impossible to separate Gefecht from Rücksicht auf Gefecht. He was also against associating Feldherrwissenschaft solely with strategy, because it belonged to both levels of the art of war, and great leaders, such as Frederick the Great, were in equal measures strategists and tacticians.83 This resembles the ideas of Rühle von Lilienstern, though Valentini does not refer to Rühle’s works regarding this matter. The way in which Valentini discusses the issue, concisely and in footnotes, indicates how little importance he attached 78 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 785–787. 79 Poll, Valentini, 182–183, 186–187. 80 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 782. 81 Langendorf, Krieg führen, 364. 82 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 1, 4th Ed., 84, footnote *. 83 Ibid., part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 2–3, footnote *.

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to discussing definitions. Irrespective, the definitions of terms he adopted can hardly be considered accurate. Such a rigid separation was impractical, which Rühle criticised, in the hands of the commander, as serving no practical function. Waging a ‘great war’, as Valentini perceived it, involved selecting a base and lines of operation, positions, and lines of defence, operations comprising marches and battles, sieges, and the organisation of the army.84 Although he generally limited himself to issues concerning the conduct of war, his method of analysis did not differ from that applied by other officers. Despite his positive assessment of Bülow, Valentini considered the concepts of the triangle and angles to be quite unrelated to geographical factors and the consequences of actions, amounting to empty speculation based on geometric precepts.85 This criticism became widely known among Prussian military authors and was used as a standard arguments against the geometrical perception of the art of war.86 Valentini’s approach to bases and lines of operation was strictly based on an appraisal of territorial conditions. The base was not a line of fortresses, but rather a whole section of territory used by the army for the provision of supplies and reinforcements, with which maintaining contact was indispensable.87 The line of defence, which he considered to be a concept related to the base, was formed by interconnected positions. Valentini considered that the term Stellung was unfairly out of favour, and its purpose had been forgotten. He understood it to mean territory of natural qualities allowing for the direct or indirect control (beherrscht) of an operation. Therefore, each position had to have strategic significance. A similar function was performed in ‘small wars’ by posts that could be defended by smaller units.88 Posts of this sort were to interconnect with an obstacle in the terrain and intersect by a road to form an effective line of defence. Rivers and other watercourses, mountain ranges and hills, as well as smaller obstacles were ideal for such lines. The advantage should be not only the difficulty it posed for the attackers, but also the possibilities it afforded to effectively counteract the enemy’s endeavours. An attacking enemy should encounter points of resistance on every road or line of ­operatio. However, not all such points should be defended on a given line. That 84

Poll put it very similarly, stating that Valentini placed emphasis on manoeuvres, cutting of enemy lines of communication and supplies, the base system and lines of operation; Poll, Valentini, 166. 85 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 16–19. 86 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 92–93; [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 782. 87 Valentini, Versuch, 2nd Ed., 108, footnote *. 88 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 82–84, 305. Decker omitted this distinction in his review of Valentini’s work, instead describing the defence line as a collection of Posten; [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 855.

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was the postulate of advocates of the cordon system, which in Valentini’s opinion was absurd as it failed to take into account the dispersal of defenders, exposing the line to be breached by overwhelming enemy forces and thus render the whole cordon useless. He also considered it folly to believe that there would always be time to react and concentrate forces.89 In his opinion, the Austrians were responsible for inventing this system, and Napoleon was the one who disabused it,90 examples of which Valentini found in the 1809 campaign.91 The commander conducting a defensive war should gather his army at a point that allowed it to join the main forces on an operation line that was attacked by the enemy. Positions on junctions allowing for the control of an entire area or operations terrain (Operationsterrains) Valentini called ‘keys’ (Schlüssel), a concept he considered useful. It was in such places that positions should be established. The history of wars has shown that in every theatre of war there were points that an attacking side had to capture and the defending side had to retain. These were the strategic points over which battles were fought. They had included Leipzig, Frankfurt am Main, Regensburg on the Danube, and Châlons-sur-Marne. For this reason, Valentini was of the opinion that the concentration of enemy armies in neighbouring countries remained the same throughout the ages. This was because the essence of a strategic point was permanent. In addition to strategic attributes, an appropriate position needed specific tactical qualities, among which he included elevated terrain guaranteeing freedom of observation, an unassailable front and flanks or at least obstacles hindering enemy movement, an appropriate deepness, freedom to withdraw, and the possibility of communication. A position always needed to conform to the perspective of the line of operation or base.92 Probably no other element of Valentini’s views has been remembered as well as the question of Schlüsselpunkte. This particular element of assessing the utility of the terrain, evidently borrowed from the writings of Archduke Charles, was hardly controversial in Prussian military thought of that period. Decker fully accepted it, only censuring Valentini for not distinguishing between a strategic and tactical Schlüssel on the battlefield.93 Looking at the problem from a broader perspective, the whole Prussian concept of defence planning was actually based on searching for such points and positions, and therefore it was 89 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 83–85. 90 Ibid., 118–125. 91 Valentini, Versuch, 2nd Ed., 42–43. Here. Valentini had in mind an attempt to conduct the so-called Stellungskrieg, which, if badly planned, could turn into a cordon. 92 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 86–91. 93 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 5 (1821), 856. In this matter, he referred to Ansichten, 1st Ed., 152.

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hardly surprising that Valentini’s views on were so widely accepted.94 This was one of the most important issues in Decker’s review, which shows the significance of this issue in Prussian thoughts on war.95 Appraisals of historiography during the Second Reich were, of course, predicated on a completely different paradigm, which treated any attempt to ascribe absolute importance to points in the terrain as fundamentally wrong. By insisting on their permanent significance, Valentini contradicts his declared avoidance of rules and principles, which again reveals a lack of consistency. Valentini thought when civilized nations were engaged in war, the aim of the attacking side is conquest and of the defending side preservation of the state. Although philosophers tried to provide other goals, the generalisation was insignificant. Therefore, the campaign plan always assumed the capture of territory or retention of it. Another goal was to potentially to repel the enemy form his country and occupy his resources. The commander of an attacking army invaded another country to defeat the enemy’s army or cause it to retreat by attacking its rear and flanks. If in defeating the enemy he was able to cut him off from his resources (Hilfsquellen), which was where Napoleon’s major strength lay, the commander achieved a decisive victory. Conducting a defensive war was always associated with unfavourable circumstances. Only by persevering, could one expect an improvement in the situation. The arrival of allies, the action of one’s own forces in another place, the division of enemy forces, all these factors could bring about a balance of forces that could provide an opportunity to go on the offensive. The commander of defensive operations had to win time through the use of positions, outposts, and other ways to weaken the enemy. Another factor was threatening enemy supplies and forcing the enemy to divide forces.96 For Valentini, an operational plan could be a draft of the general aim of the war or campaign. The direction in which the army was to proceed to achieve a particular goal was called the line of operation, and, depending on the situation, either the line of supply (Zufuhrlinie) or the retreat line (Rückzugslinie). A marching army could not carry all of their supplies, nor could they live exclusively off the land, considering the possible scorched earth tactics of the enemy. Ammunition, food, and arms, therefore, had to be supplied down the lines of operation. These supplies were deposited in places-of-arms (Waffenplatz). Every such point had to be secured by fortresses, field fortifications, or other terrain features. Their safety defended on the course of the operation to secure their only form of protection. Hence, every line of operation ran from a fortified point (Subjekt according to Bülow’s 94 Cf. Part ii. 95 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 5 (1821) 855–860. 96 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 6–11.

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nomenclature) towards a designated object. In defence, a line of operation had to take into account the possibility of withdrawing into the country’s interior and being supported in each case by a fortified point. It was marked, however, as an offensive war, because the army had to react to the enemy either by taking up a central position or waiting behind a line of fortresses for it to make the first move. If the terrain was well prepared, with a greater number of magazines and supported by fortresses, this would facilitate a change in the line of operation. Valentini was of the opinion that an offensive line could be secured in a number of ways: with a given number of points along it, with wings secured against being taken from the rear, or with escorted transports. The length of an offensive line, according to Tempelhoff and older writers, should not be longer than 15 German miles, i.e., a five days’ march, given the need to provide supplies. The requisition system, however, greatly reduced this problem. Valentini was of a mind that principles of previous times respecting the enemy’s property had been obliviated and therefore the matter of remote magazines had lost its importance.97 According to Langendorf, an extraordinary thing about Valentini’s opinions was the fact that, as one of the Prussian officers of his day, he had been a student of Jomini. From the perspective of Jomini’s theory of lines, Valentini assessed the 1809 campaign.98 He was of the opinion that Napoleon had gained an advantage over the Austrians by manoeuvring along the Danube in a single mass between the divided enemy forces, which he considered an application of Jomini’s concept of acting along internal lines between enemy lines. Divided by the Danube river, the Austrian forces found themselves in an unfavourable situation, which Napoleon exploited.99 Valentini in an extensive footnote discussed Jomini’s views on the theory of internal and external lines.100 He believed that the Swiss theoretician had distilled from the campaigns of Napoleon and Frederick the Great a system based on the assumption that one should always try to strike only part of the enemy forces with an overwhelming mass of troops. It was also possible to create an advantage by moving in mass around the enemy’s wing to cutting him off from his base. In his description of the advantage of internal lines over external ones, Valentini used geometric diagrams and mathematical formulae taken from Jomini, which he believed to be a useful summary of the concept. What these diagrams illustrated was easy to find in history, including the 1809 campaign, demonstrating the advantages of operating as a large mass against the enemy’s

97 Ibid., 21–31. 98 Langendorf, Krieg führen, 364–365. 99 Valentini, Versuch, 2nd Ed., 104–105. 100 Valentini, ‘Ueber innere und äußere Operationslinien’, 287–296.

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connection with their homeland or base, which could be achieved when performed by the most outstanding general of the period, Bonaparte. This created a dominant system, unknown in previous eras, based on attempting to undermine the enemy by severing their connections. In the past, commanders had preferred to select external lines. This error was made even by Frederick the Great. Valentini had no intention of demeaning the achievements of the Prussian monarch, who had neither the strength or resources to overwhelm his enemies even if he towered over them with the strength of his character. The system of attacking an enemy’s rear required all the commitment of the commander and his forces, because it always led to a major battle. One had to take into account the risk of leaving one’s own base exposed, but also be assured that victory precluded counteractions. In Valentini’s opinion, Jomini’s analyses of major battles clearly showed that the concentration of forces at a decisive point allowed even inferior forces to defeat numerically superior forces. This, however, required an exceptionally mobile army with the ability to manoeuvre in the limited space of the battlefield. The French did not yet have that ability during the Revolutionary Wars. At that time they were using the Carnot system, which assumed an increase in force mobility by deploying independently moving parts (Heerhaufen), which resulted in operations covering large areas. Although the position of France and its designated fortresses justified this system, Valentini agreed with Jomini that an enemy concentration of forces at a decisive point would have allowed an offensive into the interior thjat would leave the French defeated. Jomini dealt with Bülow’s system in the same manner, with its concentric encirclement operations, eccentric retreats, and results based on a great base. The system Bülow had abstracted from the first revolutionary campaigns, too geometrical and detached from geographical factors, was rightly criticised. In Valentini’s opinion, Jomini’s work went far deeper into the essence of war, and although there were some doubts regarding the reliability of his general concept and the scientific system of waging war, the book was of value to any thinking officer. This was because Jomini based his work primarily on experience avoiding speculations detached from reality. This shows a clear acceptance of the internal lines concept and, contrary to his declared lack of belief in art-of-war principles, actually treated it as a hard and fast rule. Valentini also discussed Jomini’s system in Die Lehre vom Kriege. He believed it was based on a principle already known and applied by Frederick ii: it assumed that the enemy needed to attack in a cohesive mass with no detachments. However, the forces under Frederick’s command were usually no large than a corps, which in recent times would be part of a larger whole engaged in tactical operations. Commanding forces, be it an army or an independent corps, necessitated ordering for the swift concentration of forces at a point

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where they would have a decisive numerical advantage and thus defeat the enemy. Likewise, it was of importance to select movements that would lead to a point near the enemy’s line of retreat, as Napoleon had done. The deployment of forces at the beginning of a war (der strategische Aufmarsch) could involve a large number of corps or armies, acting on many lines of operation, provided that they converged at a planned point before the decisive battle, either facing or behind the enemy. In the former case, the enemy would still be unaware of intentions, in the latter he would be cut off from his supply line with the opportunity of capturing territory to the rear, including magazines. When operating on external lines, one would benefit from encountering enemy forces in forests and mountains, because they would then be divided, providing the possibility of carrying out a variety of manoeuvres and avoidance measures. If one was able to divide one’s forces into two armies, it was possible to use one army to confront the enemy and the other to attack the enemy from a different angle, another positive example of operating on external lines. Frederick ii operated nearly always on internal lines because he was surrounded by enemies. However, his enemies were rarely operating in the same theatre of war at the same time, and therefore he was often able to direct all his forces on a single enemy. According to Jomini, already in 1757, instead of engaging the enemy in the Battle of Prague, he could have gone around the main Austrian forces via Moravia and occupied Vienna, in order to negotiate a peace. That would have demonstrated the fullest potential of the internal line, as the enemy would have been cut off from his supplies and Vernichtungsschlacht would have been achieved. Napoleon, with his revolutionary means and views, would have no doubt operated in such a fashion. Frederick, on the other hand, was deprived of two key aids – requisitions and conscriptions – both children of the Revolution. According to Valentini, in order to appropriately assess figures from the past, it was essential to understand the conditions in which they acted.101 Decker accepted Valentini’s opinion, not seeing anything inappropriate in it, which differs from Langendorf’s arguments on how Jomini’s theory was accepted in Prussia. He considered it unclear why the general should delight in the fact that his divided units were encountering enemy forces. Decker argued that this could not apply as a rule, because it relied solely on the enemy making a mistake.102 As a self-proclaimed opponent of rules and patterns, Valentini in a surprisingly dogmatic manner accepted Jomini’s model, together with geometric justifications. His emphasis of the absolute advantage of internal lines

101 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 51–59. 102 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 4 (1821), 788.

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over external ones can hardly be regarded as anything other than a rule,103 just as constantly emphasising the need to attack in a compact mass. In this respect, Valentini’s views appear very formulaic and his assurances of its historical justification are not convincing. Assessment of wartime events can be as subjective as the assessment of theories, thus the adoption of a given paradigm can lead to unqualified conclusions. For Valentini, such a paradigm was Jomini’s theory of internal lines, supposedly legitimised by Napoleon’s genius, though that would imply that it was genius that subscribed to certain rules. Decker found even more dogmatic elements in his excerpts devoted to marches and battles. For example, Valentini expressed dissatisfaction that he had never participated in a marsh organised according to school rules, though he was always fortunate to reach the goal. This was the case even though one was supposed to rely on experience and not exact knowledge of particular march concepts. More important, however, was the possession of a good map, allowing for an accurate appraisal of the real situation.104 He also considered Valentini’s comments regarding battles and the rules he proposed as too formulaic, ignoring many other variants.105 In a subtle way, Decker drew attention to a certain contradiction between declared intentions and practice in Valentini’s works. Valentini presented battles from the Frederickian and Napoleonic periods as simple diagrams, some of which had a geometric character.106 He believed that by analysing the course of battles, based on a ‘natural’ approach distilled from a small number of rules, could result in a recipe for victory.107 That statement fulfilled the criteria of the ‘learned’ art of war for which Valentini had so much disregard. Poll declared that, in addition to his hostility to ‘pedantic’ solutions, a constant reference in Valentini’s writings was the question of the ‘small war’, which was the source of his military education. Despite his recognition of the advantages of offensive war and operations on a great style, Valentini always emphasised the usefulness of the form in which he specialised. He understood those 103 This also explains the underappreciation Valentini’s achievements in Second Reich historiography. This is because, influenced by the successes of Helmuth von Moltke the Elder, many scholars started contrasting the modern model of external lines with the onetime effective but in the second half of the 19th century deemed anachronistic internal lines model; Caemmerer, Die Entwickelung, vi–ix, 36–40; Freytag-Loringhoven, Heerführung, 4–8; W. Sigismund von Schlichting, Taktische und strategische Grundsätze der Gegenwart, part 2, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1898), 4–17. 104 [Decker], ‘Die Lehre vom Kriege’, 5 (1821), 860–862. 105 Ibid., 871–872. 106 E.g., Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 1, 1st Ed., 298–301, 314–323. 107 Ibid., 383–390.

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actions only supported operations of the army or army corps, which did not influence the direct control or occupation of territory but instead secured and concealed major forces whether stationary or marching. According to Valentini, although such actions could appear to have no influence on the war, they were in fact an important element in weakening the enemy, which could be decisive in large-scale operations. This is what happened during the Revolutionary Wars. The French were unable to confront the enemy in the field, so instead fought as jaegers and tirailleurs.108 The first campaigns of the Revolutionary Wars were important, in Valentini’s opinion, not only in respect to the higher art of war, but also with regard to the effectiveness of light troops. However, he agreed with Berenhorst that the ‘small war’ of this sort was largely ‘swallowed up’ by the Napoleonic system of campaigns, which always attempted to engage in a major battle. Berenhorst believed that in the 1805, 1806, and 1809 campaigns no ‘small wars’ were waged, and that as long as Napoleon achieved successes, he saw no need for the restitution of the ‘small war’. Valentini felt Berenhorst was prophetic, for the ‘small war’ returned to favour during the campaigns in Spain. The expulsion of the French from the Iberian Peninsula was, of course, primarily thanks to the Duke of Wellington, but the Bauerkrieg was of considerable help.109 According to Valentini, every defensive war in which a nation intentionally participated to support a friendly army by attacking the invader from the rear was bound to be successful. Because the enemy had no place to safely withdraw to, its power was limited to fortified positions, venturing beyond which became problematic.110 The purpose of a ‘small war’ was to support, and therefore Valentini did not consider the war in Vendée to be a ‘small war’. The aim of the inhabitants who fought for God and the King was to destroy the enemy, and in that sense it was a great war. Likewise the Tyrol Rebellion was only in the cities a ‘small war’.111 Valentini understood ‘small war’ to mean exclusively actions supporting the main forces. Later in his work, Valentini discussed in detail ‘small war’ tasks during marches, skirmishes, patrols, retreats, reconnaissance, watch keeping, and other actions. He devoted a lot of text on the influence of light infantry actions. Its increase in importance he considered to be the most significant consequence of the Napoleonic wars.112 Valentini’s views, therefore, illustrate conclusions that could be drawn from the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars. From this point 108 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 1: Der kleine Krieg, 4th Ed., 1–2. 109 Ibid., 3–4. 110 Ibid., 4–5. 111 Ibid., 6–7. 112 Ibid., 181–186.

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of view, not only was the major battle a new phenomenon, but also the possibility of using terrain obstacles, not only as a passive hindrance to movement, but as a base for military actions. There was one reservation to this entire system. The ‘small war’ needed to have a regular character, i.e., waged primarily by organised detachments. Valentini decidedly rejected the concept of popular uprisings. This was the result of his rejection of all revolutions as events dominated by enmity and fanaticism. Their existense he considered to be contrary to the social order and the Christian faith. Therefore, although he acknowledged difficulties encountered by regular troops in the mountainous region of Tyrol,113 he considered the 1809 insurrection an incident that had an impact on the course of major events. The actions of the insurrections, though numerically impressive, only made sense in connection with the actions of the Austrians. Therefore, the continuation of the rebellion after a treaty with Austria had been agreed was, in his opinion, a flaw that had little to do with the art of war.114 Poll is of the opinion that Valentini approach to the rebellion was superficial, considering that the main reason it broke out to be Tyrol’s mountainous terrain, while ignoring the role of emotions.115 His view that the rebellion was contrary to common sense, Poll believes a typical feature of Valentini’s writings after 1808, i.e., after dreams of a Prussian Vendée were dashed. Poll accentuates Valentini’s fears of fanaticism in his later writings. Therefore, while he considered it essential to arm the population, it should always be as part of a system organised by the state and not a spontaneous outburst.116 In an assessment of the content of Valentini’s works, one can understand why there was a lack of enthusiasm among German military authors, due to his characteristic lack of consistency, ultimately causing self-contradiction. Although Valentini vehemently criticised all systems and scientific approaches to war, his works contain virtually all the concepts found in that literature, including some that personally appealed to him but had been given the status of dogma. This is most apparent with regard to internal lines, where Valentini’s views are decidedly tendentious and one-sided. His affirmation of Napoleon’s genius is perceived in a way that contradicts the essence of Valentini’s views. The publication of a four-volume work on teaching war is curious for an asuthor who consistently emphasised his aversion to intellectual reflections. From 113 Valentini, Versuch, 2nd Ed., 151–158. 114 Ibid., 236–237. 115 Poll, Valentini, 111–112. 116 Ibid., 167–168, 178–179; Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 2, vol. 2, 1st Ed., 258–259, 291– 293, 304–305.

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Valentini’s point of view, everyone could be accused of ‘pedantry’ with the ­exception of himself and a personally selected group of military authors. Such a high opinion of one’s own views might be justified by the originality of one’s theories. In this respect, however, Valentini’s works are of a compilatory nature and largely based on ideas borrowed from the works of Berenhorst, Jomini, and Archduke Charles. It is peculiar to his work that the ‘small war’117 and the ‘Turkish War’, receive only a limited treatment concerning strategy. His aversion to forms of action based on escalated emotions resulted in a duplictitous attitude towards the consequences of the Napoleonic Wars. At once, he admired Napoleon and the system he had formed, and considered him to be an usurper, oppressor, and the author of ‘pagan’ conquests that had not been since ancient times, whose actions had generated a hatred never before witnessed between Christian nations.118 Hence, Valentini saw the need for an organised system of defence against such dangers, one that would allow for the use healthy forces subjected to serve the country without resorting to the escalation of violence of the sort seen during the war in Spain. Because of Valentini’s changeable views on war he cannot be consider a representative of the ‘romantic’ trend in Prussian military thought. Although acknowledgement of the importance of points, bases, and lines of operation was commonly found in works of that period, the works of Valentini lack consideration of the political and moral aspects of armed conflict. He limited his point of view to a narrow range of issues that he considered practical, but which in comparison with the writings of contemporary Prussian theoreticians appear formulaic and mechanistic. The issue of the human factor in Valentini’s case was limited to the dominate person of the leader. This was most likely shaped by an old army worldview, to which he was loyal and which made him perceive war as a sort of duel rather than the political struggle between nations. It was the technical and practical aspects of this duel that were of interest to him. Roswitha Poll is of the opinion that for this reason Valentini in equal measures criticised supporters of the ancien regime art of war and representatives of the Scharnhorst school, because both for him were theoreticians and not practitioners.119 From this perspective one can discern the ethos of the old army. Emanating from his writings is the elitism of a professional officer, whose entire knowledge is based on  experience gained during military service. Although some of Valentini’s 117 Although even here you can point to specific inspirations from the very start; Poll, Valentini, 19–20. 118 Valentini, Die Lehre vom Kriege, part 3, 1st Ed., 204–206. 119 Poll, Valentini, 18.

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c­ onclusions are similar to leading military theories in Prussia at that time, one certainly cannot consider him to be a typical representative of Prussian ­conceptions on war. His originality did not affect the quality of his works, which stand out as being weaker than similar works published in the 1815–1830 period, and for this reason failed to arouse particular interest after the author’s death.

Chapter 13

Johann Friedrich Constantin von Lossau and his Der Krieg für wahre Krieger The figure of Johann Friedrich Constantin von Lossau was consistently remarked upon in English and French historiography after 1945. It is puzzling that until the 1940s it was difficult to find a case of him being considered in German literature as a leading representative of Prussian military thought in the first half of the 19th century. His works were briefly discussed by Troschke, who, with only minor reservations to his theses, did he place Lossau among the outstanding figures of the period.1 Apart from that reference, no details regarding his writing appeared in any of the major studies on Prussian military thought. In Soldatisches Führertum, Kurt von Priesdorff briefly discussed his works, and described him as a respected writer, implying that his writings had undeservedly not received attention from historians.2 Despite this, the brief note provides no grounds to regard Lossau as a key figure in the development of Prussian military thought. The first author to place him among the greatest Prussian military theoreticians of the early 19th century was Ernst Hagemann.3 The German author included Lossau in his perspective of the development of the ‘romantic’ study of war, where a series of similar opinions predestined him to be a vital link between Scharnhorst and Clausewitz. This corresponds with Berenhorst’s flattering opinion about one of Lossau’s works, which he believed to bear the mark of a genius.4 Although Hagemann conceded that not much was known about the author he admired, and that his works were overshadowed by those of Clausewitz, he nevertheless was convinced of his significance in the development of German study of war.5 Apart from indicating a similarity to the ideas of Clausewitz, Hagemann neglected to refer to how these works were perceived and the impact they may have had, though including the review by Troschke. Significantly, all the opinions about Lossau cited by

1 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 36, 107–108. 2 ‘Johann Friedrich Konstantin von Lossau’, Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4, 184–187. 3 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 44–55, 67–68. 4 ‘Berenhorst an Valentini, v. 12. October 1812’, Berenhorst, Aus dem Nachlasse, vol. 2 (Dessau, 1847), 348. 5 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 44.

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­ agemann were from before 1815,6 which regarding his publications after 1815 H begs the question as to what basis there is for such a high appraisal of his literary impact. It is, therefore, difficult to accept Hagemann’s arguments as convincing, and a proposition based on similarities with Clausewitz is tenuous. It seems as if such a view was also held by leading German historians of the 1940s. The author of the preface and editor of the series in which Hagemann’s book appeared, Friedrich von Cochenhausen, in spite of including his works in the bibliography, did not include Lossau in his list of the important military theoreticians of the first half of the 19th century.7 Such is also the stance of many German authors inspired by Cochenhausen’s work.8 Despite these reservations, Lossau is today one of the most frequently mentioned Prussian military thinkers. The promotion of Lossau began in France just after the Second World War, the initiator being Fernand Schneider. In 1949, he published an article on German military thought in the Clausewitz period, which included what was in effect a concise summary of Hagemann’s ideas, though without indicating the source.9 In this article and in his subsequent work, Schneider outlined Hagemann’s theses,10 which maintained that Lossau’s views constituted a link between Scharnhorst and Clausewitz.11 Through Schneider, Hagemann’s postulate became established in French historiography, despite the fact that another scholar of German military history, Eugène Carrias, did not mention the significance of Lossau.12 Schneider’s point of view was, however, fully accepted by Langendorf. Under Schneider’s influence, Langendorf undertook an insightful study of Lossau,13 which having taken into account all available literature on the issue, did not conclude that the claims of Hagemann needed to be verified. Significantly, although he knew Hagemann’s work,14 the Swiss 6

7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

The first group of sources are materials concerning his activities in 1808 from a work by Rudolf Vaupel on the reorganisation of the Prussian monarchy after the Treaties of Tilsit; Die Reorganisation, 324, 332–332. The other group of sources is naturally the correspondence between Berenhorst (who died in 1814) and Valentini; Berenhorst, Aus dem Nachlasse, vol. 2, 341, 345, 348, 354, 357. Cochenhausen, ‘Klassiker’, 240–245, 252. E.g. Marwedel, Carl von Clausewitz, 190; Poll, Valentini, 182. Schneider, ‘La pensée’, 437–451. Ibid., 443–444 ; Schneider, Histoire, 45–47. ‘est près de Scharnhorst, mais il annonce déjà Clausewitz’; Schneider, ‘La pensée’, 444; Schneider, Histoire, 47. Which is understandable in that Carrias did not cite and probably did not know the work of Hagemann, which is not featured in his bibliography; Carrias, La pensée, 386–388. Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz: Johann Friedrich Constantin von Lossau’, Langendorf, La pensée, 301–318. Ibid., 317.

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­ istorian seems to have been unaware that it was the source for Schneider, h whom he finds to be a person ‘competent in the field of German military thought’.15 On the other hand, Langendorf accuses Hagemann of basing his discussion of Lossau entirely on the sketch by Priesdorff, claiming, however, that little is known about the author in contradiction to the archival material stated in the biography. The excerpt concerning Lossau, according to the Swiss historian, solely concerns ascribing to him a significance similar to that of Clausewitz.16 This could be treated criticism if not for the fact that Langendorf called Lossau ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, confirmated by the fact that he always cites the opinion of Schneider.17 On this basis, Langendorf places Lossau in the pantheon of Prussian ‘romantic’ military thinkers,18 noting that Clausewitz had the habit of not citing theoreticians he agreed with, but rather those he criticised, which explains no direct influence of Lossau’s works on the writing of Vom Kriege.19 In the same vain, Coutau-Bégarie argues the case that although his theories were partially foretold by Lossau and Rühle von Lilienstern, Clausewitz never repaid them the debt, particularly with regard to Lossau.20 Likewise, this author considers Lossau to be a leading representative of Prussian military thought in that era.21 Respected scholars firmly established Lossau’s name in French historiography. The situation in Anglo-Saxon historiography developed in a similar manner. An article by Herbert Rosinski, probably based on Hagemann’s theses, was known in French historiography.22 In this text Lossau’s name is spelled ‘Lossow’,23 a form only found in one of the older German catalogues of military literature,24 which suggests an association from another work on the subject. Regardless, the views of Lossau are discussed in connection with the concepts of Rühle on how concepts could be too 15 ‘bien informé des doctrines militaires allemandes’; ibid., 301. 16 Ibid., 306. 17 Ibid., 301; Langendorf, ‘Le laboratoire militaire prussien (1814–1914)’, Langendorf, La pensée, 552; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 364. 18 Langendorf, ‘Ernst von Pfuel’, 291; Langendorf, ‘Post Tenebras Lux: Werner Hahlweg’, Langendorf, La pensée, 600; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 323, 364, 371. 19 Langendorf, ‘Le laboratoire’, 552. The same accusation is present in the work of Hew Strachan, Carl von Clausewitz’s On War: A Biography (London, 2007), 7–10, 29. 20 ‘Disciples de Scharnhorst, les generaux Rühle von Lilienstern (Vom Kriege, 1814) et von Lossau (Der Krieg, 1815, traduction francaise 1819) annoncent de manière fragmentaire, la philosophie de la guerre de Clausewitz (qui ne reconnaîtra guère sa dette à leur égard notamment Lossau), …’ ; Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 197. 21 Ibid., 212. 22 Rosinski, ‘Scharnhorst’; Rosinski, ‘De Scharnhorst’. 23 Rosinski, ‘Scharnhorst’, 101, footnote 1. 24 Rumpf, Allgemeine, vol. 1, 171.

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philosophical, complicated, and impractical.25 Rosinski nevertheless noted a similarity of Lossau’s views with those expressed in Clausewitz’s Vom Kriege, the connection being a supposed scepticism towards all rigid general theories. The rules of command could indeed be presented in the form of simple instructions, but their effectiveness was limited to particular circumstances. Therefore, in the concepts of both Prussian generals, the genius of the commander rose above formulaic principles.26 Hagemann’s theories about Lossau were also used by Azar Gat. Although he does not discuss Lossau’s views directly, he does refer to them in footnotes, comparing them to the ideas of Clausewitz.27 A scholar who goes deeper into Hagemann’s inspiration is Heuser. As in the case of Rühle von Lilienstern, she initially accepted not only the basic idea, but directly quotes from the German’s work,28 backing them with the views of Gat.29 In her recent works, references to Hagemann have disappeared, but Lossau continues to be used as evidence of how widespread Clausewitzian views were in Prussia during his lifetime,30 without attemptiong to indicate the reception and perception of his views prior to 1832. Heuser consistently ascribes Lossau’s views to the ‘Prussian tradition’, without carrying out research into their actual state, and uncritically accepting Hagemann’s simple yet effective construct. The result is that a relatively extensive study on the significance of Lossau in military thought after 1815 is one-dimensional and subordinated to equally one-dimensional studies concerning Clausewitz, despite the lack of evidence that Lossau’s works had any influence on the author of Vom Kriege or any other Prussian military authors. One should not, therefore, negate the impact of Lossau on Prussian military thought. However, in order to properly assess his achievements in the years 1815–1830, we need to analyse extant sources, not in reference to Clausewitz but in terms of Lossau’s role in the Prussian Army during that period. Lossau was well-known and enjoyed considerable respect both in the 1808–1815 period as well as later. His career proceeded smoothly: in 1804, he was a Major in the General Staff and after the 1806–1807 war served in Eastern Pomerania in the headquarters of Blücher and Julius von Grawert.31 While serving Grawert, already as Lieutenant Colonel, he took part in the 1812 campaign. In 1813, he was for a time Commandant of Graudenz and promoted to the rank of ­Colonel, 25 Rosinski, ‘Scharnhorst’, 83–86. 26 Ibid., 86. 27 Gat, The Origins, 185, 191 footnote 4, 193 footnote 9, 211 footnote 45, 242 footnote 73. 28 Heuser, Reading, 33–34, 81–82, 118–119, 139, 142, 159. 29 Ibid., 34. 30 Heuser, The Evolution, 14–15, 94, 102. 31 Biographical data: ‘Johann Friedrich Konstantin von Lossau’, 184–185.

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then in July he was given command of the brigade in iv Army Corps. From November he commanded the Landwehr in Pomerania. In August 1814, he was promoted to the rank of Major General and became Commandant of Stettin. From March 1815 he was again put in charge of a brigade, this time the iii Army Corps, which became part of the army occupying France. After withdrawal on the 5th of September 1818, he became commander of the 15th Division in Cologne, subordinate to the Generalkommando in the Rhineland, where the chief of the General Staff was Clausewitz. This post he held on to until 1820, when he again became Commandant of Graudenz. Next, in June 1825, he was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant General and at the same time put in command of the 2nd Division and made temporary Commandant of Gdańsk. This last post he retained after he finished his active service with the Division in March 1831. He retired in June 1831, and his last military distinction was the honorary Infantry General awarded to him on the 3rd of January 1848. It is apparent that he was transferred from staff service to the line, alternately commanding troops in the field and fortresses. The highpoints in his career was his two nominations to command a division, definitely a prestigious post in the Prussian Army.32 Langendorf provides a partial point of view in this matter.33 The Swiss historian is of the opinion that compared with Lossau’s military career, what he called Clausewitz’s ‘non-career’ is decidedly less favourable. Lossau, as the son of a general and member of the establishment, early on began performing important tasks as a staff officer, receiving recognition as a significant member of the reformers’ group and received important command positions. Although Clausewitz had better connections and achieved the prestigious post of director of the aks, the real object of desire for Prussian officers of that era was the post of command of a division or corps, as this was real and glorious military service.34 These posts, despite a setback in the years 1820–1825, Lossau managed to achieve, and even if he failed to gain the commander of an army corps, which was the highest goal of any officer of the line, he could nevertheless feel he had fulfilled a military career. The reason for the temporary setback in his career, which may have been the reason why he never came to command an 32 33 34

Cf. the circumstances of Grolman being returned to service presented in Chapter 3. Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 304–306. In December 1829, Müffling was dismissed from the post of head of the gs. Clausewitz, having not view of taking over the post and clearly considering it to be of little worth, requested the king to be given command of a brigade, and then perhaps a division, as such posts he considered to be the best for the development of his career; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 25. Oktober 1824’, 467; ‘Clausewitz an Gneisenau, Berlin, 20. Dezember 1829’, 572–573. Valentini also treated service in the line as a priority; cf. Poll, Valentini, 186–187.

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army corps, was due to personal issues. As Langendorf has noted, he was the 34th member of the Militärische Gesellschaft. In this way he became associated with the Scharnhorst circle, gaining a reputation as a bright and educated author who criticised the dogmatism and stuffiness of the Prussian army in the period following the reign of Frederick the Great, and rejected a scientific approach to war. In the years 1797–1806, he was also the author of numerous reviews in the Neue Allgemeine Deutsche Bibliothek, though these were published anonymously. In his writings, there was no systematization of ideas, as a result of which Lossau did not become a person commonly identified as a military author.35 According to Priesdorff, this changed in the years of reform, during which time as a member of Blücher’s staff he actively took part in the process of rebuilding the Prussian army.36 But as Poll noticed, Lossau’s relations with his superior were turbulent due to the impulsive nature of both men.37 In that time, Lossau wrote a number of memoranda, whose significance, in Priesdorff’s opinion, was not fully appreciated by historians. The most important of these was a text addressed, on the 21st of March 1808, to the king: Gedanken über die Militärischen Organisation der Preuss. Monarchie. The declaration contains a reform programme in the spirit of Scharnhorst, with criticism of separating the army from the officer corps caste and from the people, arguing that every subject should be obliged to defend the country. Thanks to his biographer, this memorandum is positively appraised in later literature, though there is no evidence it had any impact.38 By then, Lossau’s work had definitely become noticed, as is testified by the 1812 correspondence between Valentini and Berenhorst. It was Valentini who recommended Lossau to his friend. Berenhorst, in turn, in the letter of October 1812,39 expressed concern that Lossau’s writing style made his work too difficult to read, regardless of editing. It is not certain whether this work was, as Hagemann suggests,40 the unfinished manuscript of Lossau’s first complete work, Der Krieg. Für wahre Krieger, finally published in January 1815.41 A supporter of this view is Langendorf, who treats a statement in the preface that a soldier consider war in peacetime42 as an indication of when the work was written. The Swiss historian is of the opinion that Lossau had a time of respite in 1810–1811, when he would have been able to 35 Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 302–304. 36 ‘Johann Friedrich Konstantin von Lossau’, 185–186. 37 Poll, Valentini, 85–87, 97. 38 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 44–45; Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 305. 39 ‘Berenhorst an Valentini, v. 12. October 1812’, 348. 40 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 45, footnote 2. 41 [J.F.K. von Lossau], Der Krieg. Für wahre Krieger (Leipzig, 1815). 42 Ibid., iii.

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write the manuscript, which was finally edited and published.43 Although this seems reasonable, it is still speculation. The probability of Valentini and Berenhorst having contact with the manuscript of this work is likely since it is Lossau’s only known work from that period. The book, of such importance to his achievements, nevertheless was published in Leipzig anonymously, which must have limited its impact. It was not until 1823 that it received its first review in mlz, which in spite of its positive appraisal, confirms its initial minimal awareness in Prussia.44 The reviewer expressed astonishment that in an era where so many ephemeral military publications attracted widespread interest, such an excellent work had not yet been presented to the public. It belonged to a group of works that the reviewer rated highly, ones that reflected on spirit and not form and therefore contained original conclusions, truths, and interesting comments on the art of war and auxiliary sciences.45 This review contains no suggestions that the reviewer knew the identity of the book’s author. It is difficulty to determine whether the book was widely read before 1823 and whether it was associated with Lossau in Prussian military officer circles. The identity of the author was certainly known to Lieutenant Rumpf, who included Lossau’s book in his review of military literature published in 1824.46 The book, however, does not appear in Hoyer’s list, which was published not that much later.47 Modest indications are provided by extant opinions about the author. Assessing his new subordinate in the Rhineland Generalkommando, Hake stated that he was a man strong in spirit, imagination, and fantasy, through which he shows in every action an opportunity to express his genius. These qualities resulted in him seeking to find his own solutions to specific problems, which, from Hake’s point of view, often had a detrimental effect on the implementation of Generalkommando tasks. In Hake’s opinion, at play were an inflated feeling of self-worth coupled with an acute personal sensitivity. He assumed that he would be able to get to know Lossau better in the future and assess his practical, military worth. For the time being he trusted him more with regard to theoretical aspects due to his thorough scientific knowledge.48 This was, seemingly, a relatively negative opinion, indicating problems with cooperation, and that Lossau was known as a military theorist not as the author of a widely read work. In Priesdorff’s opinion, problems cooperating with his superior was the reason he was transferred to Graudenz. According to 43 Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 306–307. 44 ‘Der Krieg’, 393–426. 45 Ibid., 393. 46 Rumpf, Allgemeine, vol. 1,171. 47 Hoyer, Litteratur, 443–446. 48 ‘Johann Friedrich Konstantin von Lossau’, 186.

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an opinion expressed by Prince Frederick William of Hesse in 1824, Lossau was a man of exceptional education and military knowledge, deeply unhappy with his assignment, and expectant of a higher military post,49 which actually happened a year later. Lossau had the reputation of an educated officer with high ambitions. The cited opinions, however, do not refer to his published work, which might suppose that he was not associated with the work, or that the work was not widely read in Prussia, which would correlate with what the reviewer wrote in mlz. Lossau became widely known as a military author only after his retirement, which was in accordance with his personal convictions of a soldier’s duty, when his monumental historical-military books began to appear.50 This time his authorship was made public, and therefore his successive tomes were thoroughly reviewed.51 Because they appeared in the years 1836– 1845, they cannot, however, assess Lossau’s impact on Prussian military thought in the years 1815–1830. In that case, only his Der Krieg can be analysed. This raises the question as to whether the significance of this work can be ascribed to the discussed period if most was written later. Far from creating an apotheosis in the style of Hagemann, Schneider and Langendorf, and despite all these reservations, this work can be seen as an important voice in the discussion of strategy. Chief arguments are the mlz review and the work by Rumpf. Moreover, as a division commander, Lossau was in a position that allowed him to influence the education of officers in division schools, and, indirectly, the 49 Ibid. 50 Lossau, Ideale der Kriegführung, in einer Analyse der Thaten der größten Feldherren, parts 1–4 (Berlin, 1836–1843); Lossau, Charakteristik der Kriege Napoleons, parts 1–3 (Karlsruhe und Freiburg, 1843–1845). The work concerning Napoleon was not completed on account of Lossau’s death. 51 Bismarck, ‘Ideale der Kriegführung, in einer Analyse der Thaten der größten Feldherren. Von dem Generallieutnant v. Lossau. Mit Karten und Plänen. Ersten Bandes der erste und zweite Abtheilung. Alexander, Hannibal, Cäsar (Galischer Krieg). Berlin 1836’, mlz 17, 4 (1836), 295–320; Bismarck, ‘Ideale der Kriegführung…. Zweiten Bandes erste Abtheilung. Gustav Adolph, Turenne. Berlin 1836…’, mlz 17, 5 (1836), 427–445; Bismarck, ‘Ideale der Kriegführung…. Zweiten Bandes zweite Abtheilung. Turenne (Fortsetzung und Berschluss), Eugen. Berlin 1836…’, mlz 18, 1 (1837), 1–43; Bismarck, ‘Ideale der Kriegführung…. Dritten Bandes erste Abtheilung. Friedrich der Grosse (Bis inclusive des Jahres 1759 ). Berlin 1837…’, mlz 18, 3(1837), 230–264; Bismarck, ‘Ideale der Kriegführung…. Dritten Bandes zweite Abtheilung. Friedrich der Grosse (Schluss ). Berlin 1837…’, mlz 18, 4 (1837), 341–377; ‘Charakteristik der Kriege Napoleons. Von dem General-lieutnant von Lossau. Erster Theil. Feldzug in Italien 1796/7, in Egypten 1797/8, und 1800 in Deutschland u. Italien. Mit Karten und Plänen. Karlsruhe u. Freiburg 1843’, mlz 25, 17 (1844), 97–100; ‘Charakteristik der Kriege Napoleons. Von dem Generallieutnant von Lossau. 7 Hefte Karlsruhe u. Freiburg 1843, Erstes Heft. Feldzug von 1796–1797’, mlz 28, 29 (1847), 169–174; 29, 5 (1848), 25–30; 12 (1848), 69–72; Nos. 14–15 (1848), 81–91; 23 (1848), 135–139, 25, 148–152.

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­ restige of his position influenced conventional opinions in the army; extant p sources show him to have been a man of firm convictions about the art of war, which he was able to communicate to his subordinates. Therefore, even if the book did not have as wide a readership as books of other military authors, it represents the point of view of an important general of that period and a valid analysis of Prussian thought on strategy in the years 1815–1830. Lossau believed war to be an important, difficult, and complicated affair, which had not been correctly understood. When waging war, primarily one needed to know its goals and the possibilities of achieving them. Lack of clarity in these matters, he argued, threatened to upset the balance between what was intended and what was actually done. Therefore, the beginning point should be the development of a perception of the whole, including a clear view of what war is, what the leader’s intentions are, and how the subject of the war should be taught in peacetime. According to Lossau, people naturally loved peace and hated war. Peace seemed more advantageous and war an unnatural state, one which only occurred due to the imperfection of institutions. Its origins were explained as the conflict of interests and the aims of states, which caused them to clash. When their disputes could not be settled by a tribunal, therefore the sates resolved to enforce their right by their own means.52 In this simple way, Lossau came to his definition of war as ‘an extreme measure undertaken by the state with the use of violence to achieve what is impossible to achieve by peaceful means’, and therefore ‘the achievement of the goals of war should naturally be peace’.53 This simple definition resembles Clausewitz’s famous statement, and that is how it is usually perceived in literature.54 A somewhat different approach is taken by Heuser, who argues that Lossau was a supporter of the ‘bifurcation’ of politics and war.55 Although the politics was decisive in creating the goals and means of action, once war was decided on, its role ended. Heuser believes that Lossau’s views were in line with the Prussian tradition of keeping political and the military authorities separate and opposed to civilians interfering in military operations. Politics, as he saw it, was beyond war and only responsible for its preparation.56 Although difficulties exist in extending the ‘Prussian tradition’ to the first half of the 19th century. 52 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 1–3. 53 ‘Der Krieg ist also das ausserste Mitel der Staaten, um mit Gewalt zu erlangen, was auf einem friedlichen Wege nicht möglich war. Die Erreichung des Zweckes der Kriege soll seiner Natur nach der Friede seyn.’; ibid., 3–4. 54 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 45; Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 307; ­Schneider, ‘La pensée’, 443. 55 ‘Da, wo sie aufhört zu wirken, fängt der Krieg auf’; [Lossau], Der Krieg, 7. 56 Heuser, The Evolution, 14–15, 139; Heuser, Reading, 44–45.

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The views of other writers, especially Rühle, show that politics were thought to play a dominant role at every stage of a given conflict. The reviewer’s response to that part of Lossau’s work is instructive. He fully accepted his definition of war, at the same time noting that politics and the art of war had to be closely bound together.57 However, he did state that Lossau viewed war as an extreme measure of politics. Therefore, it seems that it was rather the political aspects of a conflict that interested Lossau more than Heuser’s Moltke-era bifurcation of politics and war. Although some doubts in this respect might be raised by an excerpt concerning the position of the leader. Lossau considered war to be an extraordinary and extreme measure, and war and peace to be opposites like sickness and health.58 Although the nature of a war should be decided jointly by the leader, the ministers, and cabinet, it was advisable for civilians not to interfere in the actual conduct of the war. The leader should perceive war as an extreme situation, a struggle for the existence of the state, and achieving peace was only possible through the enemy’s elimination (Niederwefung). For politicians, conversely, peace was the rule and war was an abnormality, threatening the very existence of the state. Protection of the state was equally the objective of war, but despite sharing the same goal there was a difference in the selection of means. For military command, everything was subordinate to the defence of the state’s existence, for political leaders it was more important to preserve the means for the state’s peaceful development. Lossau refrained from conceding priority to one or the other side. Nevertheless, he stated that a leader who fails to perceive war as an extreme commits a fundamental error against the nature of things. The first step towards war was always made by the politician and the two positions could not be separated. Hence, the existence of ‘war politics’ (kriegerische Politik) and what is not war politics. The tasks of the former should be clearly defined, ideally by the person responsible for it. It should comprise the Lebensprinzip of the state, be able to foresee near and further threats to the state, and find ways to avoid them. Therefore neither type of state politics could be separated from the other and they always needed to work together.59 The reviewer of Lossau’s work summed up this excerpt by stating that politicians should essentially not interfere in the conduct of war, but both should be connected and ideally controlled by the same person, as Napoleon and Frederick the Great had done.60 Although he was generally opposed to civilians meddling in military affairs, Lossau believed that the 57 ‘Der Krieg’, 393. 58 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 47–48. 59 Ibid., 225–229. 60 ‘Der Krieg’, 417.

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c­ ommander should be able fulfil the requirements of both spheres. This excerpt was treated in a similar way by Hagemann, who argued that although politics and war followed different procedures, the existence of a militarised style of politics guaranteed that both spheres could be conducted effectively.61 Lossau’s approach to the political nature of war was one similar to the opinions of other Prussian authors in that period. According to Kurt von Priesdorff, the decisive role of the general and his personality in the success of all wars was one of the two pillars of Lossau’s views.62 Lossau in his own words wrote: ‘The general is the invigorating force of the army, the highest intelligence, behind which they must follow’.63 The fortune and misfortune of state lay in the hands of the general.64 The talent of a general had a decisive influence on the pivotal circumstances in a war. What was unexpected could not be subject to rules; all sciences could not be combiled into one in order to teach how to wage war. A genius resolved everything in a war, something not be addressed in a scientific form. For this reason, war should be treated not as a science, but as an art, because its essence, as with every art, could not be taught.65 The art had its mechanical aspect, which was referred to in his work. Knowledge of this subject could have an enormous influence on operations, but with changing circumstances everything was relative and only the talent of the general could have a decisive role. The highest element in the mechanical aspect were tactics, according to which troops were to move and take up positions. Tactics also concerned lines of operation, though determining these belonged to Kunst der Feldherrn and could also not be taught. Higher tactics did not deal with matters of chance, moment, detachments, or words – which were limitet as the art of the generals was not. Attempts had been made to create a science of the art of the general and call it strategy, but according to Lossau this was mistaken.66 The word ‘strategy’ originates from the Greek, where it means the same as ‘general’, ‘war leader’, or ‘army commander’. The very etymology referred to a general, and was not 61 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 45. 62 ‘Johann Friedrich Konstantin von Lossau’, 186. 63 ‘Der Feldherr ist die Heere belebende Kraft, die oberste Intelligenz, welcher sie folgen mussen. Die Heere ihrerseits, sind Werkzeuge, welche zwar mehr oder minder vervollkomment seyn koennen, auf deren Anwendung und Gebrauch es aber von Dingen ankommt’; [Lossau], Der Krieg, 222. 64 Ibid., 242. 65 ‘Der Krieg ist also offenbar eine Kunst, und keine Wissenschaft, eine Kunst, bey welcher das Sublime, wie bey allen Künsten, nicht gelehrt kann’; ibid., 151–152. 66 Similarly to other Prussian authors, with exception of Valentini, he naturally rejected what Bülow proposed in this matter; ibid., 20.

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something that could be used to create rules. Talent, brightness, and the ability to seize opportunities could not be taught.67 And one thing that Lossau considered to be certain in war was the fact that nothing could be certain.68 Unforeseen circumstances could not apply to general rules and all were dependent on the personality of the general. His role as an artist rendered useless mathematical rules, as these could not apply to immeasurable phenomena. That is why it was pointless to devise a strategic system. What was understood by the term strategy, according to Lossau, was simply a combination of qualities necessary to command an army. The teaching of strategy could, therefore, only concern developing these qualities, insofar as that was possible. Any ordinary soldier studying war would be able to embark on the road to becoming a general.69 The reviewer was reticent to the part of Lossau’s considerations that expressed a critical stance.70 His comment was in reference to Lossau’s distinction between high and low tactics, which was a part of his criticism of the concept of strategy.71 While the reviewer agreed that a fundamental part of strategy was spiritual, which was inherent and could not be taught, he felt that the art of leadership was based on a scientific and theoretical part that could be taught.72 Views on strategy similar to those of Rühle had not been fully accepted in Prussia, since the reviewer chose to argue with Lossau’s concepts of strategy. Hagemann was of the opinion that Lossau had drawn from Berenhorst a sceptical attitude towards all systems, believing that theoretical generalisations made no sense in constantly changing circumstances. Knowledge of war was primarily based on experience, which largely came from the study of history. Thanks to such studies it was possible to learn of the ‘spirit of war’, but there was still no way one could write a textbook to teach it. Hagemann saw a foretelling of Clausewitz’s thesis that the actions of geniuses created the most beautiful rules.73 This point of view was adopted by later historians.74 Langendorf saw in Lossau’s opinions the influence of Berenhorst and Scharnhorst, as well as an affinity with Clausewitz. For although he did not use Clausewitz’s concept of ‘friction’, war was for him a game of ‘gambling’, ‘chances’, and 67 68

Ibid., 152–154. ‘Man muss bemerken, das im Kriege nicht gewiss, sondern dass alles, besonders der Ausgang einer jeden Unternehmung, ungewiss ist’; ibid., 154. 69 Ibid., 155–157. 70 ‘Der Krieg’, 409. 71 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 112. 72 ‘Der Krieg’, 406–407. 73 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 47–48. 74 Heuser, The Evolution, 102; Heuser, Reading, 74; Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 308; Schneider, La pensée, 444.

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‘­opposing aspirations’.75 With the exception of Schneider, post-war historians have ignored Hagemann’s assertion that Lossau’s views were influenced by Scharnhorst’s theory. Although, according to Lossau, war studies resembled a labyrinth, anyone who failed to navigate through them was hopeless as a guide, and therefore was a poor general. The only helpful sources in this matter were studies of particular aspects of war.76 That is why Hagemann noted the importance of an education in history, mathematics, and geography in Lossau’s work.77 Lossau indeed recognised the existence of ‘wissenschaftliche Hilfsquellen’, which might not guarantee success in wars, but did provide grounds for genius, common sense, and willpower. Therefore, it was a mistake to disregard supplementary studies, among which the most important for soldiers were mathematics and history.78 Lossau considered mathematics as primary, as a scaffolding. The principles of mathematics were first and foremost orderly and logical ways of inferring and the basis of modern sciences, without knowledge of which one could not understand. This, however, did not mean that Lossau felt rules and principles should always be blindly followed. There was nothing more dangerous than people who felt everything could be described quantitatively. Reductionism was absurd, for mathematical methods were only fully effective in the realm of mathematics, and as experience had shown, could not be extended to other areas of knowledge. Nevertheless, one needed to know mathematics to be able to apply it in cases where the quantitative method was applicable.79 Mathematics was, therefore, not a decisive but necessary element in thinking about war. The reviewer put it similarly by stating that people who perceived mathematics as a collection of forms and concepts without understanding the practical significance were dangerous in wars.80 An equally important role according to Lossau was played by study of history. The general aspect of history he understood as an orientation in the course of events, without necessarily looking into military aspects. Conclusions drawn from history were nonetheless useful in the study of war. Lossau was of the opinion that history provided an understanding of how humans functioned, without which people would be unable to benefit from past experiences. The main purpose of history was to teach, and nothing was more important in the study of war than the history of war. This history showed the futility of all systems of war, teaching the soldier to consider the essence and nature of war, 75 Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 315–316. 76 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 158. 77 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 45–47. 78 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 49–52. 79 Ibid., 52–59. 80 ‘Der Krieg’, 397.

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instead of attempting to build complex theories based on individual events. It showed that every deployment of troops or campaign was unprecedented, a unique event that provided for thought, but not as the basis for generalisations. Characteristically, Lossau viewed the history of war primarily as an account of the actions of great generals, from which one could learn.81 The reviewer of Der Krieg was enthusiastic about Lossau’s observations on the usefulness of history. In his opinion, no one in modern times had described the matter more accurately and exhaustively, and that Lossau’s work could cited as a guide to the history of wars.82 A sceptical attitude towards mathematics and an affirmation of history as the depository of knowledge of human nature was typical of Prussian theory of war in the period. Hagemann saw the influence of the ideas of Scharnhorst, who wanted to combine ‘the old with the new’ and, despite the specificity of the spirit of every age, assigned history a leading role in his pedagogical programme.83 History most fully applied to the postulates of what a soldier should consider in peacetime. Another subject Lossau regarded essential to a soldier’s education was geography, especially statistics, allowing for a comparison of the potentials of various countries and characterisation of the theatres of war. This part of geographical studies he also considered to be indispensable for the study of military history and for understanding the relationship between politics and war. The state was not an autonomous entity, for it was limited by geographic location and physicals factors, including natural resources, networks of roads, number and locations of strongholds, and topography, all of which were of key in the waging of war. Hence the importance Lossau attached to the study of geography and statistics.84 Bearing in mind the tasks of the Prussian General Staff and defence planning, Lossau’s point of view in these matters was not original. This was exactly the course of studies taken up by gs officers, and Lossau, an officer in that service, knew these realities. Likewise the reviewer saw in the analysis of geographic factors an opportunity to discover the culture and spirit of a given country’s government and people.85 Hagemann’s conviction that Lossau consciously had a geopolitical view of the states is doubtful.86 Although, in his mind, geographic conditions determined a number of elementsthey they did not ultimately decide the causes and directions of actions. Ascribing geopolitical materialism to a 81 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 164–181. 82 ‘Der Krieg’, 409–412. 83 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 46–47. In a similar tone Langendorf; Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 310–311. 84 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 159–161. 85 ‘Der Krieg’, 409. 86 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 46.

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t­ heorist who consistently emphasised the spiritual aspect of war is a misconception, but understandable considering the date of Hagemann’s work. Among the less important supplementary subjects, Lossau mentioned site surveying, knowledge and exploitation of terrain, reconnaissance, artillery, fortifications, and tactics. Thus Lossau’s concept of supplementary subjects was a mixture of sciences with the practical experience of military officers.87 Yet they combined to form a coherent model of knowledge about war. Despite being sceptical about the possibilities of creating a positive science of war, Lossau considered every element of knowledge about reality as indispensable in waging war effectively. Some provided specific knowledge, others the ability to think or to develop one’s personality. They even constituted together supplementary apparatus for the greatest general. Although they could never replace talent, they could support the general with known designs and help him create an appropriate solution. War was an instrument of the state, and therefore the state had to prepare for it, ideally in a way that did not economically threaten national prosperity. Here, Lossau saw institutions and war preparations in peacetime, and institutions and actions in wartime. In order to deepen the national attitude to war required the development of patriotism, arousing enthusiasm for the fatherland and the ruler, and acquiring effective terminology to describe war. Lossau believed views about war resulted from one’s own and the state’s geographical position, the sum of the state’s moral and physical forces, and a comparison of forces with other countries and the mutual interaction of needs. The condition of forces lay at the basis of politics, without which one could not consider war. Lossau believed politics stood guard to protect the state’s existence and internal interests, giving it a direction and goal, without individual ideas creating major concepts. Among goals, the most important was survival, but there were more, for instance, economic prosperity. Politics created the bases of the state’s offensive and defensive organisations. The means of warfare comprised the army and the fortresses. There was no given quantity with regard to the number of troops and fortresses, because it all depended on the situation. ­Determining the proportions of troops or weapons or types of weapons was pure speculation. The situation was different when it came to principles for creating armies and the nature of fortresses.88 Lossau considered the army to be an extremely complicated machine. However, it could not be treated as an 87 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 59–158. The reviewer of Lossau’s work devoted decidedly the most space to tactics, as that was where he had the largest number of reservations; ‘Der Krieg’, 399–408. 88 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 5–8.

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i­nvoluntary mass, as it consisted of individuals who had clearly defined personalities and particularly strong willpower. Any form of coercion in its creation he considered to be unnecessary, and he rejected the old Prussian rule that the soldier should fear his officer more than the enemy. It was war that created the warrior, peacetime spoiled his character.89 With this in mind, a truly belligerent state (eine kriegerischer Staat) needed to develop the bases for war. Above all, the state should have a clearly defined goal and the citizens should be indoctrinated to develop a warlike character (kriegerischer Charakter). This was important because all men able to bear arms might be called upon to defend the country. Likewise, the legislature and judiciary ought to adapt to a warlike spirit. The belligerent state should direct minimum funds to civilian needs and maximum funds to military needs. The population should be treated as a potential, which could replenished the permanent army. The art of managing this was a knowledge of a proper state of tension and a relaxation of forces, and an awareness of the conditions of the state’s survival, closely connected with its politics, finances, and military.90 Lossau stressed how important it was for the state to create conditions in which the nation developed a warlike spirit, the greatest guarantee of a state’s existence. Ascribing the leading role to the moral factor was characteristic of Prussian considerations of war in that period. In Lossau’s work, however, we see the interdependence between the genius general and his army, which had also to comprise people with specific personality traits. According to the reviewer, it was on such principles that the current Prussian military system was based, and, hardly surprising in the realities of declared Prussian military policies, he agreed with Lossau’s point of view.91 The reviewer was, however, critical of Lossau’s views regarding the significance of fortresses. The author of Der Krieg was surprised that so many terms governed the nomenclature of this subject, when in fact it was quite simple. The general rule was that fortresses were significant in defence. However, their importance was connected with the movements of the army in a given theatre of war and should be thought of as ‘support points’ (Stützpunkte) for the army in defence, facilitating its movements by providing it with supplies. In offence, fortresses shortened the lines of operation. The nearer the attacking army was to its supply points, the more effectively it could carry out its offensive. Therefore, every victorious army had to have set up or capture such supply points in order to continue its operations. That is why attacking  extensive or distant states was always more difficult than attacking a 89 90 91

Ibid., 252–256. Ibid., 279–299. ‘Der Krieg’, 422–426.

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­ eighbouring state. It was indispensable in such situations to have points and n territories at intermediate stages. The positioning of fortresses in defence and attack was, according to Lossau, a subject for endless speculations. He believed that fortresses essentially defended the area within range of its guns. When they had not been maintained, they were due to fall, which hindered o­ perations. For this reason, Lossau opposed the construction of three belts of fortresses. He argued that because it was based on the conviction that potential actions could be predicted it was impossible to realise. Instead, war was governed by chance, and the theory of war was an open book The combat strength of a fortress was limited to its district, and therefore, compared to the army, it was passive. The balance between fortresses and the army depended on mutual support. Offensives generally involved the gathering of forces on the border, while defence was not a matter of preventing the enemy from crossing the border, but rather of defeating the enemy once it had crossed the border, which was where fortresses were useful. A totally open country required a genius to command the defence forces, but fortresses could only support it.92 Lossau also rejected the teachings of Vauban in the Prussian context, because his concept of a defensive cordon of fortresses was only useful in the specific geographic locale of France.93 The reviewer of Der Krieg agreed that fortresses were only able to protect the area within the range of their artillery, but believed that Lossau over generalised the aspect of their usefulness. The author of the review distinguished four types of fortress. The smallest ones were used to protect specific position and posts. Next were fortifications raised to protect offensive operations, which had to be more extensive as they served a dual function. The third type were storage strongholds, which required space. And finally, there were places of arms, best located in large towns. The importance of a fortress was always decided by its location and the men who manned it. In an ideal case, a fortress would force the enemy to leave forces to blockage the soldiers manning it, and would weaken the enemy offensive. Thus a fortress could extend its importance beyond its artillery range, a consideration Lossau had not included in his book.94 This was an argumentation similar to that used in Ansichten, edited by Decker.95 In another place, the reviewer accused Lossau of not being familiar with modern methods of attack, as demonstrated against French fortresses in 1815, which rendered some of his conclusions outdated.96 92 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 11–14. 93 Ibid., 21. 94 ‘Der Krieg’, 394–395. 95 Ansichten, 2nd Ed., 49–57. 96 ‘Der Krieg’, 399.

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Generally, it is fair to conclude that while Lossau did attach considerable importance to fortresses, he was out of tough with the ideas that had taken root in Prussia since 1815. This is evidenced in the reviewer’s comments, which present various types of fortification for defensive actions, a key element in the Prussian defence system. According to Lossau, preparation of the army and fortresses was only a beginning. War required further efforts, in particular two elements: war plans and projects and materials required to realise them. By materials, Lossau meant various types of maps, topographic plans, site sketches, and various other forms of topographical information regarding the theatre of war.97 This was the typical point of view of a Prussian gs officer. War plan drafts (Krieges-­ Entwürfe) were memoranda that instead of hypotheses contained real operations for waging war in a given country. Such plans were rarely written and therefore, as Lossau noted, there were few documents of this sort in German archives. The only other available source of information, therefore, were the histories of wars, whose analysis required considerable talent. The difficulty was demonstrated, according to Lossau, in various attempts to define ‘strategy’ and ‘tactics’. For example, Bülow searched for fortunate ideas on the art of war, but did so by introducing schoolbook rules, which were unacceptable. He promoted the concept of the operational base, forgetting, in Lossau’s opinion, that there existed cases when instead of bases only fortified points were used, as in the case of the Austrians in 1809. Lossau actually objected to the whole of Bülow’s theory,98 having a negative appraisal of prevalent European views of waging war, in particular the idea of planning detailed war operations during peacetime. In his opinion, the very nature and constantly changing circumstances of war meant that operation plans could not be detailed. Instead, the indispensable elements in the preparation for war should first and foremost be ordinances putting the military forces and fortresses on a war footing. Anything beyond that could not be perceived as a model, because it depended on a unique arrangement of circumstances or on the actions of a genius. Generally, however, the key moment was that of transition from peace to war. The side that took into account all circumstances and first decided to act had the advantage. The desire to resolve the situation naturally led to launching an offensive, for it made no sense to allow one’s own state to be attacked and damaged, though there were always cases when the enemy was able to muster forces faster. Lossau divided plans into two types: campaign plans (CampagnenPlan) and operational plans (Operations-Plan). The first concerned the main 97 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 15–19. 98 Ibid., 19–20.

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o­ bjective of the operation and the steps leading to its decisive moment (Hauptmoment). The operational plan set out all possible quarters, camps, and marches essential to initiating the campaign. It never went further than determining the first deployment of forces (Aufmarsch), or the first major event, because it was impossible to predict the changeable courses of action. The difference between the two plans, therefore, was that the former encompassed the whole and considered general issues, whereas the latter dealt with specific tasks. The operational plan was subject to constant change. The campaign plan could only be modified by victory or defeat, success or failure in achieving the main objective. Preparing an operational plan involved determining the operation line, i.e., the direction along which the army was to move in order to achieve the operation’s objective. Along this line there should be intermediate stage points and magazines. Lossau used standard terminology, but to a limited extent. The line as he saw it was only ‘imaginary’ (imaginirt) and required no mathematical basis. It should be as short as possible and leave from a fortified point, so that it could protect the army advancing in the direction of the objective. Lossau considered the issues of bases and 60 degree angles from Bülow’s theory to be purely abstract concepts drafted on paper and of absolutely no practical use. If all military operations required a base of two or three fortresses, not many armies would have been able to wage war. This was clearly shown in the 1809 campaign, where there was no other possible line of operation than along the Danube. It was also perfectly possible to wage war without a base, as in the case of the Peninsular War. Lossau considered most important for the plan was an accurate calculation of distance and time, which was where mathematics became essential.99 The reviewer of Der Krieg did not share Lossau’s scepticism towards the concept of the operation base, and he found the examples Lossau used to be biased. Repeating reasoning known from Rogniat’s critique of the 1805 campaign, the reviewer asked what would have happened if Napoleon had lost at Wagram. In his opinion, the situation would have been difficult, for the line along the Danube would have been broken and the army would have probably pushed towards Hungary. Therefore, the reviewer expressed the conviction that although armies could fight without a base, in the event of an army being defeated, a base could nevertheless be of invaluable assistance.100 This was argumentation directly taken from Rogniat’s work, which proves that the principles of the operation base were well grounded in Prussian strategic thought. It was preferred by a defensive Prussia, whose vulnerability allowed it to think of offensives only in cases when the risks of such 99 Ibid., 26–31. 100 ‘Der Krieg’, 396.

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an operation were reduced to a minimum. This aspect of Lossau’s reflections was also criticised in a completely different era by Troschke, who also felt that he had underappreciated the utility of operation bases.101 This was probably inspired more by the review than any personal convictions of Troschke, who assessed Lossau’s theory positively. Avoiding risks decidedly had no place in strategic thought, as risk was an immanent feature of war. According to Lossau, campaigns could be either offensive or defensive. Offensive campaigns were easier to conduct and brought results. Those in defence were forced to wait for the enemy to make a move and only then respond accordingly. While the attack lasted, the attacked side was unable to use its forces freely. All efforts had to focus on resisting the enemy until it was possible to go on the offensive. Both sides therefore needed to counter the opponent’s anticipation, although the attacking side had a greater potential. If through the change of events and fortunes roles were reversed, it was always due to the ingenious actions of the defenders. Attack made it possible to surprise and preempt one’s enemy, always key in war, especially at its initiation. By obstructing the enemy’s first concentration of forces, one could overcome the beginning of a campaign, often the whole campaign, and sometimes even the entire war. Attacking had an awe inspiring effect on the enemy and instilled valour among one’s troops. Moreover, it placed the material burden of war on the enemy, because only the attacking side benefited from the requisitioning system. The threat for the attackers, on the other hand, occurred when there was a standstill in operation, which would force them to rely on the regular supply system. The volatility of war meant that both systems were necessary and complemented each other.102 This final conclusion shows that Lossau was not a dogmatic opponent of the operation base and the system of depots – he merely opposed fetishizing the system and raising it to the sole rank of preventing certain danger in war. As the reviewer rightly noted, this particular excerpt shows that for Lossau attacking was the preferable form of action.103 This is also how the text was interpreted by Hagemann, who stressed that for Lossau the purpose of defence operations was always to move on to the offensive.104 Indeed, the author of Der Krieg stated that defence could be of a permanent nature and reduced to waiting for the enemy, or it could be based on a plan to counterattack. Lossau believed the first approach was pointless, and the second could be useful only by predicting the enemy’s actions and taking them by 101 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 108. 102 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 32–33. 103 ‘Der Krieg’, 396. 104 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 53–54.

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surprise to force them onto the defensive. It was a struggle of the spiritual qualities of both generals, where a successful defender could acquire the position of an attacker.105 This point of view emphasised the decisive role of offensives, though Schneider recognised that Lossau followed Scharnhorst’s example in stressing the usefulness of an active defence and somewhat ‘rehabilitated the defensive approach’.106 As most authors have noted, the logical consequence of this state of affairs was Lossau’s conviction that the battle was at the centre of all operations.107 In his opinion, the two chief moments of a campaign were preparation for the decisive battle and the consequences of the battle.108 Every battle began a new period of operations. After a battle, the victorious army had to start a new offensive; it needed a new deployment (Aufmarsch), a new defence. The defeated side had to find the fastest possible means of regrouping, but the direction of retreat depended on the actions of the victors. All came down to gaining an advantage over the enemy, not numerically but in terms of strength. The easiest way to achieve this was by preserving one’s own army and destroying the enemy’s. The enemy was not so much to be restrained as brought down. A restrained enemy could reactivate, but not a vanquished enemy. Lossau believed that the proper principles for waging war, as demonstrated by the actions of great military leaders, were simple: inflict losses in people and materials, destroy the sources of supply, and live at the enemy’s expense.109 He was therefore a supporter of the brutal and effective campaign in the Napoleonic style. That is how this aspect of Lossau’s views was perceived by his reviewer, who saw in his work a consistent criticism of any views that suggested that wars could be resolved in a bloodless fashion. Lossau considered the extreme point of war to be the battle and therefore that was where the war would be resolved.110 A lack of criticism of this opinion can be regarded as acceptance. Brought up in the cult of the destructive battle, Hagemann considered that although Lossau did not go as far as Clausewitz’s concept of the climax, in his views we can discern the beginning of the ‘right’ Vernichtungsgedanke.111 For Hagemann, this aspect of Lossau was decisive for treating him as an intermediary between Scharnhorst and Clausewitz in the creation of the ‘deutsche Lehre vom Kriege’. 105 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 33–34. 106 Schneider, ‘La pensée’, 444; Schneider, Histoire, 46–47. 107 Schneider, La pensée, 444; Schneider, Histoire, 46; Heuser, The Evolution, 94; Heuser, Reading, 159; Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 311–312. 108 [Lossau], Der Krieg, 36. 109 Ibid., 43–47. 110 ‘Der Krieg’, 396–397. 111 Hagemann, Die deutsche Lehre, 54–55.

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Lossau did indeed stand out in Prussian military thought. His specific feature was undoubtedly consistency. Although scepticism towards the positive teaching of war and emphasis of moral aspect of armed conflict was common among Prussian authors, only Lossau did not treat the concepts of bases, points, and lines in a systemic way. In sharp contrast to Valentini, for instance, Lossau simply did not use those terms, for which he was incidentally criticised by contemporaries. This shows that, despite everything, Lossau cannot be treated as a typical representative of Prussian thinking on war in that period. Despite his reluctance to Bülow’s theory, declared in almost all his works, it was difficult for Lossau to eradicate Bülow’s terminology from his texts. It had probably entered standard Prussian army preparations for war, including studies that marked Bülow’s concepts. Lossau did not deny the need to acquire knowledge about the country, the army, and all aspects relevant to the defence of the country. It was central to a soldiers peacetime duties to consider as comprehensively as possible all relevant elements, even if, as in war, these were to change over time. That is why, despite his negation of scientism in the art of war, he had a high regard for general education, though it should lead to the development of an ability to think in a number of categories. This ability was to be a supplementary skill to the natural talent of the general, which is not say that he felt a genius should not be educated. From this perspective, Lossau certainly had opinions thast convergt with those of most officers in the Prussian army, who considered genius and education to be the basis of leadership. Specific, however, were Lossau’s views on the role of politics. Despiter the strongly stated opinion of Second Reich historiography that politics ended with the outbreak of war, and despite Lossau’s emphasis of the predominance of politics, perception of war is too contradictory and therefore to some extent independent of politics. Different than his contemporaries and to Clausewitz, Lossau was convinced that the specificity of a general’s work was essentially different to politicians oriented to peace. The goal of the general was to bring down the enemy; war had no other purpose. Hagemann and the scholars he inspired treated this view as an obvious foretelling of Clausewitz and his epigones. It seems, however, that this approach is largely a result of the Second Reich interpretation of Clausewitz as the creator of the ‘war of annihilation’ (Vernichtungskrieg) concept. This idea should actually be attributed more to Lossau than to Clausewitz, and indeed stemmed from the difference between the two scholars with regard to the role of politics in wartime. The views of Lossau and Clausewitz were, however, both opposed to the cautious and defensive strategies of the Prussian military command. Lossau was a decided supporter of the Napoleonic style – of fast, decisive actions leading to the

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d­ estruction of enemy forces – a real partisan ‘d’opérations directes’.112 This point of view also dominated his understanding of defence. A comparison of his critical opinions with those of Clausewitz on aspects of Prussian defence planning, nonetheless do not justify treating Lossau as a precursor of Vom Kriege.113 Although Lossau was hardly an outsider and his work was finally reviewed in the mlz and appreciated, the fact that it had been anonymous and where it was published clearly indicate that it had a limited impact. 112 Langendorf, ‘Clausewitz avant Clausewitz’, 316. 113 Ibid., 315–316.

Chapter 14

First Works of Heinrich August von Brandt One of the greatest Polish historians of the early 20th century, Szymon Askenazy,1 appraised Heinrich August von Brandt as follows: ‘Awarded the oldest Polish cross, a brother-in-arms of Chłopicki2 and Poniatowski,3 he was also a Prussian General of the Infantry, active in carrying out an armed suppression of Posen in 1848 and a personal friend of the future Field Marshal Moltke. He belonged to the essentially very tough and open to assimilation intermediate, border region German-Polish population, where in the blaze of the mighty political and military turnovers at the turn of that century many of Poland’s finest were burned. No doubt Brandt did not have the makings to become a Fiszer4 … Yet despite everything, he was already well on his way to becoming a good Pole’.5 It is hard not to notice in this description of an exceptional life story, a sincere regret that such an outstanding figure and highly valued military author ultimately chose to wear a Prussian uniform. Today in Poland, the views of Brandt on military theory are virtually forgotten. Research is usually limited to the Prussian general’s service in the Legion of the Vistula, and especially his participation in campaigns in Spain and 1 Szymon Askenazy (1865–1935) – a Polish historian and diplomat, founder of the so called Askenazy school or Lwów-Warsaw School of History. He focused chiefly on Poland’s political and economic history in the 18th and 19th centuries. Author of i.e. Prince Joseph Poniatowski (London, 1916). 2 Józef Chłopicki (1771–1854) – polish general, famous for his successful, military career in the Legion of the Vistula in Spain. Later in the Army of the Kingdom of Poland. Due the personal insult from Grand Duke Konstantin resulted in his retiring into private life. At the general request of his countrymen accepted the dictatorship of the November Uprising of 1830–31. He saw the hopelessness of the insurrection and quickly resigned on 23 January 1831. However, he joined the army as an adviser of the new dictator, and was heavy wounded at the Battle of Olszynka Grochowska that he had to be conveyed to Cracow, where he lived until his death. 3 Prince Józef Poniatowski (1763–1813) – nephew of last King of Poland Stanisław ii Augustus, minister of war and commander-in-chief of the Army of Duchy of Warsaw, Marshal of the French Empire (1813). Supporter of Napoleon to the end, he was repeatedly wounded and drowned in the Elster river when covering retreat of the French army after losing the Battle of Leipzig (1813). 4 Stanisław Fiszer (1796–1812) – came from German family, adjutant od Tadeusz Kościuszko during Uprising in 1794, general and Chief of Staff of Army of the Duchy of Warsaw. One of the most brilliant polish staff officers of that era. 5 Sz. Askenazy, ‘Przedmowa’, Brandt, Pamiętniki oficera polskiego (1808–1812), transl. from German by M.G.[M. Gąsiorowska], preface. Sz. Askenazy, part. 1 (Warsaw, 1904), 5. © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���� | doi:10.1163/9789004438439_016

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­ ussia, p R ­ erhaps influenced by Polish editions of his works.6 To a certain extent, excerpts from his memoirs concerning participation in Prussian actions in supressing the November Uprising are made use of.7 Remaining aspects of his career, the peak of which was promotion to the rank of General of the Infantry, remain practically unknown, partly due to a Polish distaste for the Prussian uniform. This reservation, however, was not shared by Polish officers who were Brandt’s contemporaries. The translator of the Polish edition of Decker’s Ansichten added Brandt’s critical comments on its subject.8 Likewise, Ignacy Prądzyński gave a positive appraisal of Brandt’s Der Feldzug der Russen und Polen zwischen Bug und Narew im Jahre 1831,9 adding bits of information and some polemical remarks.10 The only Polish scholar who treats Brandt as a significant military author is Jerzy Maroń, for whom he was a precursor of the urban warfare theory.11 His thesis was based on a thorough analysis of Brandt’s memoirs concerning Brandt’s engagement in Zaragoza and from conclusions drawn form his work on the ‘small war’.12 However, his views among important works concerning Prussian and German military thought published before 1945 are difficult to find, despite the fact that the general was widely respected during his lifetime. His obituary published by officers of the General Staff historical section in Beiheft zum Militair-Wochenblatt largely refers to him as a military author.13 Brandt’s achievements were considered admirable due to the extent of his interests and that his writing career lasted almost 40 years. Brandt had been a regular author of reviews published in mlz, using thre signature No. 3.14 His first published works15 were promoted as fully displaying his personality, his clarity of argument, totally free of any institutional restrictions, a 6 Brandt, Wspomnienia z wojny w Hiszpanii i Rossyi w r. 1808–1812, parts i–ii (Warsaw, 1878); Brandt, Pamiętniki oficera polskiego (1808–1812), parts 1–3 (Warsaw, 1904); Brandt, Moja służba w Legii Nadwiślańskiej. Wspomnienia z Hiszpanii oraz Rosji 1807–1812 (Gdynia, 2002). 7 O. Dąbrowski, ‘Clausewitz a Kampanja 1831 roku’, Przegląd Historyczno-Wojskowy 2 (1931), 273–294; H. Kocój, Prusy wobec powstania listopadowego (Warsaw, 1980), 21, 36, 64, 66, 176, 181. 8 Zdania o tegoczesnym, 31–32, footnote *, 110, footnote *, 277–278, footnote *, 371–374. 9 Brandt, Der Feldzug der Russen und Polen zwischen Bug und Narew im Jahre 1831 (Glogau, 1832). 10 Bloch, Ignacy Prądzyński, 554. 11 J. Maroń, Wokół teorii rewolucji militarnej. Wybrane problemy (Wrocław, 2011), 234–236. 12 Brandt, Der kleine Krieg in seinen verschiedenen Beziehungen, 1st Ed. (Berlin, 1837); 2nd Ed. (Berlin, 1850). 13 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog des Generals des Infanterie v. Brandt’, Beiheft zum Militair-Wochenblatt 2 (1868), 1–20. 14 Ibid., 14. 15 Brandt, Ueber die Wiedereinführung der Dragoner als Doppelkämpfer (Berlin, 1823); Brandt, Ueber Spanien, mit besonderer Hinsicht auf einen etwanigen Krieg (Berlin, 1823); Brandt, Ansichten.

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rich history of experience, and the rare ability to confirm every contention with academic authority and historical example.16 The publication of a book reviewing a work by Decker was significant in his career for its erudition noticed by influential people in the Prussian army. The 1829 publication of his Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht in der höhern Kriegskunst was assessed in a similar vein.17 This was a work dedicated to Valentini and was presented to the king, who praised its content. The royal praise was no surprise to officers of the gs, who believed this work fully displayed the individuality of the author. It was stressed that like Valentini, Rühle, Gneisenau, and Clausewitz, he avoided applying any particular methodology or creating systems, and rejected oversophisticated suppositions. He was seen as treating of little value all academic theories that neglected moral and intellectual elements of the art of war in order to create a view exclusively based on mathematical calculations, reducing military operations to abstract geometric forms. He also stressed the decisive significance of commanders, as well soldiers who were courageous, valiant, able to use arms, able to march, and were disciplined. Sufficient supplies, knowledge of, and proper use of roads that decided the outcomes of battles and campaigns were key factors in his books.18 Brandt’s works in the 1815–1830 period put him among prominent representatives of Prussian military thought in that era. His later works were equally highly appraised. His book on the 1831 Polish-Russian War was considered an indispensable source for the study of any war; it was based on a case he knew well. His contacts with the zkwg resulted in publication of three volumes of the Handbibliothek series on military history in ancient and modern times,19 which, as was emphasised, required him to study documents in German, French, English, Spanish, and Latin, demonstrating his exceptional erudition.20 These publications consolidated his position in Prussia as an authority on the history of war. In turn his Grundzüge der Taktik der drei Waffen,21 published in 1833, made him a figure throughout Europe and r­esulted in his works being translated into Dutch, Spanish, and 16 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 4. 17 Brandt, Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht in der höhern Kriegskunst (Berlin, 1829). 18 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 15. 19 Brandt, Geschichte des Kriegswesens (Handbibliothek für Offiziere, oder: Populaire Kriegslehre für Eingeweihte und Laien) 4, vol. 1: Das Kriegswesens des Althertums (Berlin, 1828); vol. 3: Das Kriegswesen von Maximilian’s I. Zeiten bis zum Beginn des 17. Jahrhunderts (Berlin, 1835); vol. 4: Geschichte der Entwickelung des Kriegswesens im 17ten Jahrhundert (­Berlin, 1838). 20 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 15–16. 21 Brandt, Grundzüge der Taktik der drei Waffen: Infanterie, Kavallerie und Artillerie, 1st Ed. (Berlin, 1833); 2nd expanded Ed. (Berlin, 1842); 3rd revised Ed. (Berlin, 1859).

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even Japanese. Although many criticised his harsh rejection of rules, which were, after all, essential to tactics, the authors of the obituary argued that similar to Rühle, Brandt held that rules were to be born on the spur of the moment in unique and dangerous situations by the general, which was why no system could be formed with regard to tactics. Therefore, Brandt offered few rules with regard to the use of weapons and coordination of particular weapons. This approach, supplemented with abundant examples taken from history and citations from authorities, was intended to provide aks students with not only fundamental knowledge, but with the ability to enable them to determine their own solutions and rules. This did not mean that Brandt had a low opinion of military science that reduced the art of war to mere empiricism. In fact, he considered it naïve to assume that at a particular moment a talented general would be able to summon up a solution without having first undergone a thorough education and learning from scientific examples.22 Similarly Brandt’s work on the ‘small war’ and his shorter works on the cavalry were highly valued.23 His 1858 publication in French, a language he knew like his mother tongue,24 which criticised Jomini’s booklet on combat formations was considered a particular achievement .25 The authors of the obituary also emphasised the interest aroused by Brandt’s memoirs,26 which included descriptions of Gneisenau and Clausewitz.27 They presented Brandt as a comprehensively educated erudite and polyglot, who had for four decades been one of the most important figures of Prussian thoughts on most aspects of war. Troschke wrote in a similar vein in a book published two years after Brandt’s death, in which he referred to him as ‘verewigte’. The author appreciated Brandt’s first work on the war in Spain.28 He also wrote warmly about Brandt’s impressive literary output, as well as his editorial work for the mlz.29 Troschke was most impressed, however, by his military history works, studies concerning tactics, especially his much reprinted work on the ‘small war’, as well as by his memoirs.30 His later dispute with 22 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 16–17. 23 Ibid., 17–18. 24 Ibid., 18. 25 Jomini, Sur la formation des troupes pour le combat. Deuxième appendice au Précis de l’art de la guerre, Paris, 1856; [Brandt], Observations relatives à la brochure de Mr le général Jomini intitulée Sur la formation des troupes pour le combat. Des papiers d’un ancien officiergénéral de l’armée de S.M. le roi de Prusse (Berlin, 1858). 26 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, parts 1–3, (Berlin, 1868–1882). 27 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 7–8. 28 Troschke, Die Militär-Literatur, 45–46. 29 Ibid., 63–66. 30 Ibid., 310–311.

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J­omini was of interest to him as well.31 His work was largely an abridged version of the obituary, complemented with information about Brandt’s editorial work for the mlz. It is hard to find, however, anything specific in Troschke’s book concerning Brandt’s views. Not much more information can be found in Brandt’s 1876 biography by Richard von Meerheimb,32 who mention his publications but failed to discuss their content in detail. Regarding Brandt’s reflections on strategy in his Handbibliothek, Meerheimb stressed a lack of scientific geometric formulations, but rather a tendency to base arguments on historical examples. Concerning Brandt’s personal opinions, he quoted an excerpt from the obituary on the required qualities of a general and his soldiers. In the first years following his death, Brandt’s literary achievements were known and highly appreciated. It is surprising that he was subsequently ignored later. In his 1937 brief biography, Kurt von Priesdorff described Brandt as an intelligent and well-known military author, although he failed to mention the title of any of his works.33 Hence, although present in German historiography, Brandt is perceived as a figure in the background and not of main interest,34 which accounts for his absence in the historiographies of other countries, with the exception of France. This is probably the effect of Brandt’s connection with the works of Jomini. The Swiss theorist did not mention Brandt directly in his Précis de l’art de la guerre, but as Coutau-Bégarie pointed out, he was implied in the use of the term ‘the German school’.35 A contact point was Brandt’s anonymous criticism of one of Jomini’s later works. All became grounds for the comments of Langendorf, displaying a poor state of knowledge about the subject, who considered Brandt to have been a representative of the ‘romantic’ movement in Prussian thoughts about war, significant only in his testimonies concerning Clausewitz.36 Langendorf referred to Brandt’s views chiefly in relation to Jomini, noting that they are inconsistent.37 This is because in his Handbuch Brandt referred to Jomini as the most renowned military author of the era,38 and then years later anonymously criticised his views. Taking into account the 31 32 33

Ibid., 229–230. Meerheimb, ‘Brandt: Heinrich v.’, adb, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1876), 253–255. This biography was exceptionally cursory, especially if we take into account extant memoirs and biographical studies concerning the general; ‘Heinrich August von Brandt’, 213–215. 34 Poll cites him with regard to Valentini’s perception of the ‘small war’ and the latter’s dispute with Diebitsch; Poll, Valentini, 30–33, 126–127; Marwedel cites him only with regard to Clausewitz; Marwedel, Carl von Clausewitz, 50, 52, 57–58. 35 Coutau-Bégarie, Traité, 212, 243. 36 Langendorf, ‘Karl Wilhelm von Willisen’, 472; Langendorf, ‘Post tenebras lux’, 600. 37 Langendorf, Krieg führen, 114, 151. 38 Brandt, Handbuch, 68–69.

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three decades that divided the two opinions and the different matters they concerned, it seems that Langendorf’s comment is an overstatement since he himself stressed that in his earlier work Brandt criticised Jomini twice for creating and consistently supporting a confusing line system he compared to the equally complex concepts of Bülow and Wagner.39 An indication of Langendorf’s inadequate research is the fact that he calls Brandt a ‘Westphalian’,40 since the particular officer was born in Pomerania.41 Consequently it is difficult to refer to the existence of studies on the views of Brandt, particularly those originating from the 1820s. It is questionable whether Brandt’s views in that period were significant enough to become a subject of study, or whether positive post mortem opinions were an affirmation of a deceased general whose achievements should be praised independent of their impact on contemporaries. The authors of the obituary considered chief factors in the development of Brandt’s army career in the 1820s to be his exceptional talent and knowledge, as well as his friendship with Valentini, who became his patron. After 1815, the former Napoleonic officer found his way in the new reality difficult. After initial problems with being admitted into the Prussian army, in 1817 he became a Captain of the 11th Infantry Regiment and a teacher at the division school in Glogau, the company commander of the 35th Infantry Regiment in Glatz, and in 1820 was transferred to the 38th and then to the 37th Reserve Infantry Regiment in Silberberg. After active service in the field, garrison life seemed interminably boring to him but he made use of his free time to increase his knowledge. Following the advice of Valentini, whom he had met while serving as commandant of Glogau, he took up the writing that brought him acclaim.42 He became associated with the mlz circle. There was particular response to his critical review of Decker’s Ansichten regarding strategy. It is difficult to find a discussion in the periodicals, likely due to the fact that the editor of most important Prussian military journals was also the author of the work criticised. For quite a while his success in writing did not translate into the development 39 Ibid., 60, 79; Langendorf, Krieg führen, 365. 40 Langendorf, Krieg führen, 365. 41 Brandt states that he was born in 1789 in Łąki (Lakie), in what was then Western Prussia and is currently the West Pomeranian Voivodeship, Wałcz gmina (district); Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 1: Die Felzüge in Spanien und Russland (Berlin, 1868), 1. For some unknown to me reason, Priesdorff states that Brandt was born in 1788 in Mansfelde (Lipie Góry?) in the Friedeberg district, i.e. near Strzelce Krajeńskie, Lubusz Voivodeship; ‘Heinrich August von Brandt’, 213. In none of these cases, however, can one consider him to be a Westphalian. 42 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 3–4.

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of a military career. Until January of 1829 Brandt remained a Captain at the 37th Infantry Regiment.43 Thanks to his acquaintance with Valentini, who by then had become General Inspector of Military Education and Training, he eventually was appointed as a teacher at the Cadet Corps in Berlin, where he gave lectures in French on the history of Prussian wars.44 This marked a breakthrough for Brandt, though initially he was not enthusiastic about the appointment, regretting breaking ties with his company and moving to Berlin.45 According to his memoirs, he soon won the recognition of distinguished officers, including Blesson, Rühle, Witzleben, Gneisenau, and Müffling. Gneisenau was chiefly interested in his service in the field, appreciating the distinctions he was awarded in Spain and wondered whether Brandt did not regret exchanging the sword for the pen.46 He established contact with Rühle, Valentini’s brother-in-law. Assisted by his knowledge of Polish, Brandt helped Rühle read Polish manuscripts and translate works, and out of this grew a long friendship.47 Wiztleben appreciated Brandt’s approach to teaching cadets, in which he avoided delivering systematic lectures and instead drew from the history of Prussia to broaden the intellectual horizons of the students. He began with the Seven Years’ War, and by selecting characteristic examples and the application method he was able to develop in the students an ability to express their opinions in a foreign language. His curriculum was focused more on developing skills rather than inculcating dry facts.48 He made such a good impression on Müffling that he decided to test his talents in solving problems in the ‘higher’ art of war. According to Brandt, years later Müffling admitted that he knew he would make a brilliant career.49 All came to fruition in October 1830, when Brandt was appointed as a teacher in the aks and made a member of the Higher Military Examination Commission (as a German and French language examiner). In the spring of that year he became an officer of the General Staff.50 It is difficult to say how much the development of Brandt’s career was due to his publications or how much it resulted from his personality. Appraisals come from his memoirs, which are naturally subjective and require verification.51 It seems, however, that this decorated veteran of Bonaparte’s army aroused 43 ‘Heinrich August von Brandt’, 213. 44 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 5. 45 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 1–2. 46 Ibid., 10–11. 47 Ibid., 4, 11–12. 48 Ibid., 4–5. 49 Ibid., 14–15. 50 Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog’, 4–5. 51 Cf. Poll, Valentini, 173–181.

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g­ enuine ­respect from senior officers, due to his combined war experience with education and a command of foreign languages, in particular French and Polish. An analysis of Brandt’s memoirs leads to the conclusion that a considerable role in the positive appraisals he received was due to views he championed, as confirmed by his description of the reaction to the publication of his Handbuch. A particular honour was the handwritten letter he received from King Frederick Wilhelm iii on the 15th of January 1830. In this letter, the king thanked Brandt for the book, which he had received on the 1st of June 1829, and which he felt deserved exceptional applause due to Brandt’s war experiences and erudition.52 This book was reviewed positively in the mlz.53 The reviewer believed that the guiding principles selected by Brandt was intended as a shield against criticism, but this was unnecessary as the work was so carefully and precisely crafted that the whole could be classified as perfect and complete. The reviewer, however, was taken back by the author’s concerns over a work he personally valued, especially as the text was far above school textbook standards. The only points of contention he mentioned were the unpleasant paper and print, as well as quotations presented in such a manner that they might be incomprehensible to the reader. He could not but praise Brandt’s erudition. He perceived the intention of the work was to present the realities of war, strengthen healthy concepts, and debunk misconceptions. The reviewer also mentionerd that the author presented influential officers in a real light enriched with his own views.54 In summation, the reviewer emphasised the value of the work, in avoiding dogmatism and systemisation, instead based on common sense supported by historical examples. In his opinion, the work contributed to the popularisation of healthy ideas and was worthy of recommendation.55 On this basis, towards the end of the 1820s Brandt found himself in a social circle that guaranteed a continued and harmonious career. The positions and recognition he acquired at the time resulted from this intellectual abilities, which included his writing achievements. His works did not necessarily have an influence on Prussian views about strategy in the 1820s, but were considered among ­important works published in that decade56 and were frequently cited.57 In c­ omparison with other established authors, the posts held by Brandt were lower and the range of his influence was less. Although, in view of the ­consistently declared enthusiasm for his achievements, his views should be 52 Brandt, Aus dem Leben, part 2, 17–18. 53 ‘Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht’, 97–126. 54 Ibid., 97–98. 55 Ibid., 125–126. 56 Hoyer, Litteratur, 444. 57 [Decker], Grundzüge, 69; ‘Ueber die militairische Beschaffenheit’, 4 (1824), 40–43.

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c­ onsidered together with Ansichten and Handbuch as elements of Prussian thought on strategy in that period. The general applause for Brandt’s theses on strategy are testimony to a paradigm beginning to spread among Prussian officers at the start of the 1830s, the assumptions of which were clearly fulfilled in Brandt’s books. Brandt, like other officers who focused on the practical side of the art of war, did not conduct meticulous research into the ontology of war. Analysing views contained in Decker’s Ansichten, he only stated that war was as armed conflict conducted for the realisation of the state’s aims. Although he accepted this definition, he noticed that Decker had failed to address adequately an issue he had raised, i.e., that wars could result from the personal views of those waging them. He had in mind commanders whose personality affected every conflict.58 In his Handbuch, he defined war as the joint struggle of the state and the people for the armed execution of their aims, which could be either defensive or aggressive. The first form could take the preventive war (Zuvorkommungskriege, Präventionskriege), such as were waged by Charles xii and Frederick ii. Defensive wars often turned into Volks- und Rachekriegen (religious, civil, and sea wars were not included in Brandt’s analysis). Every conflict was always at the cultural level equal to the opposing sides. It was said that as long as humanity failed to mature, the notion of perpetual peace would remain a pipe dream. Two of the most famous leaders of the Enlightenment raised military matters to the highest obligations of their governments.59 Brandt completely disagreed with Rogniat’s arguments concerning the difference between invading despotic states and republics. The triumph of Alexander was, in his opinion, the effect of a combination of his personality, his troops, and circumstances. In contemporary times, monarchies such as those of Frederick ii, Alexander i, and Spain, effectively defended their independence, whereas the free states of Holland, Switzerland, and Venice offered up a feeble defence. The fallacy of Rogniat’s arguments that it was enough to simply march on despotism is demonstrated by the historical examples of Marcus Crassus and Julian the Apostate.60 Brandt’s views were not especially complicated in understanding how he ­perceived the art of war. Brandt had doubts about the comparison by Decker between war and a ‘sword duel’ (Zweikampf mit dem Degen). In his opinion it was unclear and definitely incomplete. As it stood, it reduced war to an 58 Brandt, Ansichten, 89. 59 ‘Die Kämpfe die Staate und Völker miteinander, um ihre gegenseitigen Ansprüche mit Gewalt der Waffen durchzusetzen, nennt man Kriege. – Sie sind entweder Angriffs- oder Vertheidigungskriege’; Brandt, Handbuch , 1–2. 60 Brandt, Ansichten, 282–283.

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a­ nimal-like melee, to the glee of wanting to observe a gladiatorial contest. This definition, for him, lacked key elements of war, such as the question of courage, the relationship between theory and practice, and information about when both sides are at peace. Additionally, the art of war was defined as the most difficult and honourable of the arts. Bearing in mind the generals of republican France who were initially complete amateurs, he could not allow this fact not to be taken into account.61 For such reasons he was sceptical about Rogniat’s work. Assessing its value, he stated that since the times of Nebuchadnezzar seven thousand books on the art of war had been published and yet in total had not contributed greatly to progress. Undeterred, the Germans, who had particularly been affected by reverberations of this alien idea, were currently obsessively engrossed in matters concerning the art and science of war. Brandt did not want to decide whether or not this was the effect of French lawlessness creating a ‘climat fantasmagorique’. At the same time, he noted that only after reviewing Rogniat’s book in full did it become even bearable to read. Despite this, rarely had a book received such attention as the work of the French general. Brandt was of the opinion that this was primarily due to the author’s high rank and exceptional history as an experienced officer of Napoleon’s army. However, his views, especially his criticism of Napoleon, astonished many, including Col. Marbot who proved that certain concepts of the art of war were alien to Rogniat. Brandt in turn mocked that there was no shortage of people who treated seriously the mummy hauled out of the military literature museum by the publisher.62 Personally he felt all detailed deliberations had absolutely nothing to do with the art of war, not theory, rules, principles, or essence that could be defined. Citing Maurice de Saxe, he claimed that all sciences apart from that of war had principles. Napoleon called war an art and considered it to be an object of emotions, attributing its success to the courage and reason of soldiers. Elsewhere he stated that the art did not involve excessive thinking but making decisive moves. Meanwhile, most military writers had forgotten that it was not rules, but a specific action of spirit, historic nature, and originality that created the art.63 Thus, in his criticism of Rogniat and comments concerning Decker, Brandt presented himself as a consistent opponent of all signs of turning the art of war into a science. Waging war to him was the immeasurable task of the genius of the general and the spirit of his army, which at no stage could be discerned as a clear system. Wars were dictated by great individuals who gave each conflict a unique quality. Therefore, 61 62 63

Ibid., 5–6. Ibid., 1–3. Ibid., 93–97.

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similar to Rühle, Brandt was sceptical about the definitions of strategy and tactics. He noted that the French did not make distinctions between the two, which did not mean, as Decker also observed, that they acted less strategically. The term used by the French was grande tactique. Brandt left it for the reader to decide between the definitions of Bülow, Rühle, and Decker. This was because all attempts were equally fruitless, just as Thomas Aquinas’s 13th-century question as to how many angels could dance on the head of a pin. Although he knew many would treat his attitude as military heresy, Brandt stated that as an officer and commander he was unable to discern the elements proposed by Decker, i.e., the strategic, ideal, and material. For Brandt this was not a useful sort of military dogmatism. Learned speech was usually only talk, unsupported by theory. Something he quite consciously rejected.64 Instead, he fully agreed with the conviction that one had to be born a leader, marked by the heavens,65 showing the central role of individuality in his perception of war. Brandt was against the idea that the higher the military rank, the higher the officer’s education should be. He referred to the cases of Marius and Maurice von AnhaltDessau, as well as contemporary ‘semi-barbarian’ (semi barbaria) generals of natural talent. In his opinion, one could not determine a required level of education for generals. Hence, Decker was wrong to fetishize education. It was indispensable and should be universal, but, according to Brandt, there was no less practical way to learn than through books. There was nothing worse than a ‘learned’ officer who knew everything only from books and had no skills essential to his profession.66 However, as Great General Staff officers noted, Brandt did not reject all scientific investigations into war. The declared aim of his Handbuch was the popularization of some concepts and the debunking of certain myths on the subject of war. While Brandt tried to avoid dogmatism, his work did include strategic jargon (jargon strategique). His method of presentation, intended for a young officer, was based on the best works regarding the subject and personal experience from campaigns. The author maintained that a soldier should be flexible and free from orthodoxy in his feelings and thoughts.67 The reviewer of the book felt Brandt required a great deal from officers who lacked military training but should learn their profession directly from combat. Since war was the officer’s most important task, so too should it be the basis of his education, and of science. Whoever failed to learn from such experiences would not be able use the right concepts. The fact that many 64 Ibid., 77–78. 65 Ibid., 83–87. 66 Ibid., 22–23. 67 Brandt, Handbuch, v–viii.

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teachers of war were more inclined to present war systems rather than inculcating a proper understanding war (eigentliche Kriegskenntnise zu verbreiten) was unfortunately more damaging than useful. Thus, many respected military officers came to the conclusion that it was better to ignore so-called Kriegswissenschaften which strengthened erroneous concepts. The reviewer agreed with this view, because, in his opinion, a text had yet to appear from which an officer could learn what war required of him and how to prepare for it. Author of the review, however, was not a total sceptic with regard to German military literature and felt that one could learn much from works similar to Handbuch.68 It seems that the reviewer’s opinions reflect the attitude of a large percentage of Prussian officers of the period. They were consistently sceptical of stiff concepts and systems with a conviction that the counterbalance to this did not have to be total rejection, but rather to make better use of them for the intellectual and spiritual development of an officer. Brandt’s writings reveal a conviction that knowledge is an immanent element of the art of war, and therefore a component of the general’s genius. Based on these assumptions, Brandt clearly emphasised changes that had occurred in the waging of war since the French Revolution. At a certain point in history, permanent armies evolved into a closed caste that ceased to correspond to the spirit of the times. Symptoms of the crisis were the successes of the tirailleurs and popular uprisings in America as well as the Revolutionary Wars. Military matters henceforth needed to be seen from a different perspective. One had to bear in mind that the art of war required more than just elaborating the details of mechanism (Details der Heeresmechanismus) and commanding them like abstract calculations. One had to embrace that the battlefield was a place for moral actions. This was first noticed in France. Masses of youth brought enthusiasm to an army that was unexpected. The first campaigns against the French showed that art of war assumptions were obsolete and everything had to be reconsidered, this time based on a human factor. The best armies of Europe, including the Prussian army led by old officers raised on the legend of Frederick ii, were no match for the French, because they treated their soldiers like a machine whose movements were controlled and directed to find the enemy flank. The successes of the French resulted from their appreciation of human courage with the ethical and intellectual state of the nation pervading the army. A past error was the failure to appreciate the relation between the general development of the nation and the needs of the army; instead everything was based on mathematical calculations. In all subsequent military operations one needed to take into consideration not only the ability 68

‘Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht’, 98–99.

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to use reason (Vestandeskombination), but also moral strength. The plans and ordinances of the enemy were vague and the number of eventualities meant that calculations of each variable required strength of a different sort.69 This was because at war ‘there was little certainty – every moment brought a new situation, requiring new decisions’.70 For this reason Brandt disliked the division of war into elements in Decker’s work. Decker did state that the army consisted of human and mechanical elements, but his quotes from Rogniat showed that he aperceived war as a game of chess. Brandt considered the views of Rogniat as a product of the 1770s and 80s, when the idea of the educated officer was born, wars in Europe were conducted like a game of chess. Pointing to his military service in Spain, Brandt stated that human valour was far more important than any calculations. Rogniat had compared soldiers to animals, steeped in the conviction that humans were just creatures, an attitude that, as Brandt noted, had been criticised in the mlz.71 The first condition for success in modern warfare was appropriate organisation of armed forces. According to Brandt, reluctance of a permanent army was because soldiers were educated in military schools, where attempts were made to execute what was inherently unfeasible, teaching students to become soldiers as rapidly as possible. In his opinion, the way to muster and drill (aufbringen) people to become soldiers was through conscription, considered by writers of the so-called restoration of the science of the state (Restauration der Staatswissenschafte) to be a product of the revolutionary state. Brandt believed conscription would be the best method to create soldiers, the more universal the fewer exceptions would be applied. The law regarding conscriptions should be clear and understood by everyone. Recruitment should be decided by a fair lot and it should apply to all able-bodied men without exception. As in Prussia, lower numbers should form the reserve. Deputies should be selected from among the best soldiers and non-commissioned officers. Brandt felt one could point to diverse views about the Landwehr.72 In some countries, it was separate from the line, in others it was very much part of it. Both forms had advantages and disadvantages. The resolution was to find a golden mean between calculation and preparation, and instinct and direct use of moral and physical means on the other hand.73 Brandt was, therefore, a decided supporter of universal conscription, considering it to be the only feasible military system in post-revolutionary times. For 69 Brandt, Handbuch, 6–22. 70 ‘Im Kriege ist selten etwas gewiss – jeder Augenblick führt neue Begebenheiten herbei erfordert neuen Entschluss.’; ibid., 22. 71 Brandt, Ansichten, 8–9; Wenzell, ‘Considerations’, 4 (1822), 316. 72 Brandt, Handbuch, 23–28. 73 Ibid., 38–42.

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him, Prussia was in many respects a model example, though he refrained from unequivocally commenting on the relationship between the permanent army and the Landwehr. The crucial advantage of the conscripted army was not so much the mass of armed men that could be deployed, but rather their moral strengths, enthusiasm, and courage. Here one sees how Brandt’s views were influenced by his years of service in the Napoleonic army, whose ideals were close to the aspirations of mainstream reformers. These opinions were referenced by the reviewer, who was critical of Brandt’s attempt to strike a balance between the old system and the new, stating that the new system generated a greater number of requirements.74 He also could not have been all that enthusiastic about Brandt’s opinion on the role of general staff officers, though he refrained from commenting. Brandt was of the opinion that the general staff were different during the Seven Years’ War, and that their current arrangement was formed at a time when the real art of war fell to mathematics being applied to war operations and the concept of the educated officer was created. Their critic was Berenhorst, who believed that the problem was with their position in the army, where they were theoretically supposed to be quartermasters and right-hand men of the generals, whereas during the reigns of Frederick the Great’s they were in fact of no importance at all. Brandt was of the opinion that staff officers had not adapted sufficiently to post-revolutionary changes and that they continued to suffer from the condition Jomini and Valentini had chastised them for, that they treated their positions as the ultimate goal of their careers and not merely a stage. Such a stance was criticised by Frederick the Great and Napoleon, who believed only people who risked their lives under fire and served in the line could be good officers.75 Brandt put it bluntly that a staff officer was often synonymous with the least useful wartime officer.76 He believed that if gs officers were to represent the intelligentsia in the army, they would have to attain the highest civilizational level of the day, which meant that they could not limit their knowledge to purely military matters. This, however, was in practice unachievable and ultimately irrelevant to their usefulness during war. Therefore, the general staff should limit t­ hemselves to providing decision makers with essential materials. Staff officers should not form a corporation of experts in every field of military knowledge, but instead they should be thoroughly educated specialists in a particular service of the

74 ‘Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht’, 101–108. 75 Brandt, Handbuch, 56–60. 76 ‘Ein attache a l’etat-major und ein für den praktischen Krieg weniger brauchbarer Offizier waren in den meisten Fällen ziemlich synonym unter ihm’; ibid., 60.

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military.77 This view was similar to the those of Berenhorst and Valentini, who also attacked the group of ‘learned’ officers. One might consider it paradoxical that such criticism came from an exceptionally well-educated officer like Brandt, although the beginnings of his career was very much in the line, where he gained combat experience. His doubts were, therefore, those of an officer who was familiar with the battlefield and critical of ‘sublime’ staff officers who were quite oblivious of its realities. Brandt’s stance on the usefulness of the fortress system was characteristic. He subjected part Decker’s study on that matter to a long and exhaustive criticism, largely based on the views of Napoleon. Brandt shared the scepticism regarding the usefulness of the belt of fortresses on the French border, and believed that they could only serve as support points (Stützpunkte) for small forces in hindering the advance of a stronger enemy. However, he considered the system of fortresses proposed by Decker to be inappropriate. He agreed with Valentini that first rank fortresses should be in cities, creating Nationalfestungen. He considered the system proposed by Rogniat to be too expensive and impractical. Attention to this problem had already been drawn by Napoleon and Marbot, who said it was worse than the old ideas of Vauban.78 Rogniat’s system required a greater number of garrisons and therefore weaker. Three lines of fortresses gave 18 larger points, each with a fort and 28 cannons, which was equivalent to the cost of creating 36 large fortified places. In this system, the enemy could easily find a gap between two fortresses as wide as a two day’s march, whereas in Vauban’s system no gap was more than one and a half miles between two fortresses. The system presented by Decker was equally full of flaws. Large warehouses where materiel and provisions were to be deposited offered a prize to the enemy if they managed to capture them. Fortresses on the first line had to be large and strong, but should only contain enough supplies for the needs of the defender and not serve as major depots of materiel. Forts were never, or almost never, able to fully block roads and the ease with which they could bypassed made their value doubtful. A system of fortresses could not be abstract, but had to correspond to the political and territorial situation, as well as the specificity of the given province and its inhabitants. Brandt also considered the fortification of large towns to be fully appropriate for the modern system of war.79 He elaborated on this subject in his Handbuch, where he presented his own propositions for fortifying the state. New times, in Brandt’s opinion, required a new approach to fortresses, because war had 77 Ibid., 61–62. 78 Brandt, Ansichten, 45–54. 79 Ibid., 69–71.

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changed since Vauban’s day. In deciding a fortresses’ location, one had to answer two questions: where and what for. The location had to take into account local80 and political relations as well as the state’s whole fortification system. Bearing in mind their usefulness to the state’s defence system, one could divide fortresses into four classes. The first were the shield points (Schirmpunkte), situated in special locations; possession of them was particularly important and they absolutely needed to be defended. They should only be built in naturally appropriate places, with the knowledge that otherwise an efficient army could easily make its way around them, which had happened frequently in recent times, and which made their usefulness problematic. Opinions were divided as to what size they should be. For example, Carnot believed they should be as large as possible. According to Brandt, their purpose, significance, and location in the centre of the province meant that thy should rather be built in a grand style. The enemy would have to venture deep into the country to capture them, and therefore they had to have the means to put up a defence for a long time. Less importance could be attached to them if they lay beyond the line of operation, which meant that the enemy would divert smaller forces to try to capture them. The second class of fortress were the support points (Stützpunkte) used for offensive operations against neighbouring states. Although they ought to be large, their size was generally dictated by local conditions. Apart from a defensive value, they were to have operational value, which the French author Pelet called the strategic significance of the fortress. However, they should not only be limited to supplying troops operating in the area, but also enable holding on to a section of territory. Of key importance to this type of fortress was its location. It had to ensure that an enemy would be forced to divide its forces for observation or to form a blockade. The best locations were on the banks of large rivers. This was because controlling a river bank or ford always facilitated carrying out operations. Fortresses of this sort had to be able to supply not only their garrison, but also troops in the field. What type it should be, a small fort or large fortress, primarily depended on the terrain and border configuration. Pivot fortresses (Pivot) were built for defensive operations. Their usefulness depended on their location and positioning. They were influenced by factors dictating the defensiveness of the state, from the shape of the borders to the political system and national character. In positioning these fortresses, one had to consider whether they would force the enemy to regard it as a factor in their operations. A positioning that would compel the enemy to divide its forces was particularly sought after, while the defending 80

This included the construction of roads, a factor which was also noted by Decker’s Polish translator; Zdania o tegoczesnym, 31–32, footnote *.

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side could maintain a central position with concentrated forces (following Jomini’s principle of holding on to the internal line of operation). Natural obstacles were not totally sufficient for defence purposes, and therefore it was necessary to fortify these points not far from the enemy’s operation base. The Pivot fortress could also support the small war and partisan warfare at the flanks and behind enemy lines. The fourth class of fortress was the place-ofarms and shield (Waffen-und Schirmplätze) for the entire province, where inhabitants would be able to resist the enemy. Their location and parameters depended on the type of province. They showed their worth in Spain, requiring little expenditure. These were people’s fortresses, defended by the inhabitants, who nonetheless had to be prepared. Brandt believed that the construction of places-of-arms as part of a national system that would form a harmonious whole, effectively shielding the country.81 Here, Brandt’s views hardly seem consistent. Although he criticised Decker’s systematized distribution of fortresses, his own topology proposed several years later closely resembled it. By then he was much less critical than Valentini, who in 1824 was clearly an inspiration. Five years later his ideas were far closer to conventional Prussian military thought and as such did not provoke harsh comments from the reviewer. The reviewer only pointed out that in order to obtain a division of enemy forces during a defensive war, the fortress would have to be based on a natural terrain obstacle. He also pointed to a minor inconsistency in Brandt’s text who on had written the nature war never changed, and yet on a subsequent page wrote that it had changed since the times of Vauban. The reviewer argued that the statements implied different consequences.82 On the other hand, Brandt’s opinion on Rogniat’s theory of camps was absolutely clear. He argued that Rogniat’s idea of concentrating troops in one place was unrealistic, demoralising and leading to problems with provisioning. Brandt also criticised Decker’s concept that camps should be located in places of secondary importance, because the fall of such a camp would damage the defensive capabilities of neighbouring fortresses. Although a strengthened camp within a fortress could be useful, one had to designate the time and place. Rogniat’s system he rejected as being too inflexible. Brandt was always in favour of manoeuvrability as opposed to being enclosed inside a fortified camp. This, however, required a good army, generals, and a leader.83 This stance was close to the opinions of Valentini and Lossau, but not exactly in line with the point of view of the Prussian military decision makers, who in face of the weakness of the Prussian forces considered 81 Brandt, Handbuch, 94–108. 82 ‘Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht’, 109–110. 83 Brandt, Ansichten, 71–77.

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all fortified points of resistance key in defence operations. This was, of course, hard to understand for someone trained in Napoleon’s Grande Armée. It is not surprising that Brandt had the strongest objections to Rogniat’s criticism of the way in which Bonaparte conducted operations, of the ‘methodical art of war’. Rogniat’s most important demand was for the establishment of operation bases. Berenhorst had written on the subject first, and was followed by Bülow, whose work was widely known. Brandt believed that history had shown that one could effectively act without an operation base as the examples of Blücher, the Nordarmee, and later the allied armies in France had shown. He felt that Decker’s ideas on this subject were somewhat pedantic and similar to those presented by Wagner in his Grundzüge. Brandt argued that fortresses without an army did not form a base and could not serve as support in the event of defeat. Reaping the benefits from having a base was only possible when one had numerical superiority, alternatively one could only count on the moral superiority of the troops. After the 1812 campaign, the French had bases on the Elbe, Order, and Vistula, but events the following year showed that this was insufficient to achieve victory. The designation of a base was necessary at the beginning of a campaign, but by the end was purely a matter of military aesthetics.84 The study of the operation base that Rogniat proposed was well-known in Germany. Similar ideas were explained in German literature in a far more thorough way. This was because military actions in the sense proposed by Rogniat were already conducted in Hanover in the years 1758– 1763. Meanwhile, according to Brandt, operations required a good operation base when they were secured with conveniently situated depots, stages, and the support of the local inhabitants, also when they lacked a belt of fortresses. If the situation required it, however, the army could afford to lose contact with its base. Defensive wars in one’s own country did not necessitate a base in the sense postulated by Rogniat, because that would limit the ease of changing operation lines, choice of possible actions, and general freedom to manoeuvre.85 Brandt considered views similar to those of Rogniat, a supporter of the depot system, to belong to past times when operations were planned with a compass and scale. Every campaign based on the depot system was uncertain, because it could be effective only as long as the enemy, voluntarily or ­involuntarily, attacked the supply line. Brandt believed the requisition system was an inextricable part of modern warfare and the depot system during marches could only be considered complementary. Only when the army remained in one place for a day or two could storage facilities prove helpful. The 84 85

Ibid., 54–61. Ibid., 68–71.

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requisition system was more effective, though it required an appropriate ethical stance from soldiers.86 Brandt wrote that according to Prussian theorists, an operation could constitute a 50-mile fortified line, by man or nature, supporting the army during an operation or defending the army in the event of failure, or could be a single, fortified point, a reserve corps deployed some distance from the main operation, or simply depots, providing the army with munitions and other supplies. Brandt knew of no other option. The base should simply guarantee, in his opinion, the freedom to concentrate troops and attack the enemy with numerical superiority. Primitive bases were mutually defined by opposing states, their borders, and lines of fortification. Various dogmatists, however, believed bases had to be situated a specific distances from each other, as current times were still replete with proposals for conducting methodical warfare.87 A representative of this dogmatic trend was Rogniat, whom Brandt strongly criticised, stressing that one cannot teach war the way one would teach Hugo Grotius’s rights of war and peace. Napoleon would say a methodical war was a well-conducted war, and Brandt agreed with that statement. However, the secret behind Rogniat’s strategy was the reserve army. All his considerations determined the right proportion between the active and reserve army. Brandt, on the other hand, believed the existence of two independent commanders in one theatre of war would cause problems.88 He considered Rogniat’s ideas to be not original and already established in Germany. In his opinion, they were based on the observations of Tempelhoff on supplying the army and his golden rule: take no step forward without the certainty of being able to take a step back. The whole theory of operation came down to the question of how far apart marching columns should be. In reality, however, everything depended on the terrain and the intention of the operation. That was exactly why Rogniat believed Napoleon did not understand methodical warfare and thought only of Alexander’s feats in conquering the world. Here, Brandt sarcastically commented that it was a pity Considerations had not appeared a decade earlier as it would have been useful to the generals who had for years failed to defeat Napoleon and who would have benefitted from learning the secrets of the ­victories of that great conqueror. For Brandt this was obviously absurd. All of Rogniat’s methodology was pointless, like a rigid canon in art. Brandt was strongly opposed to his proposed examples of methodical warfare. As evidence of the correctness of his theory, Rogniat had cited the campaigns of 1812 and 86 Brandt, Handbuch, 65–67. 87 Ibid.,70–72. 88 Ibid.,105–107.

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1809, to which Decker added the campaign of 1800. Brandt, on the other hand, argued that anyone who took the trouble to study the whole of the 1812 campaign had to be impressed by its impetus. In his opinion, not strategic errors but political ones determined Napoleon’s defeat. It was not Mikhail Kutuzov’s flanking manoeuvre to the southern provinces, which was raised by some German theorists to the status of a maxim for all military science. The incompetence of Napoleon’s subordinates completed what had begun by mere chance and rendered all the victories useless, all the efforts of genius fruitless. Likewise the campaigns of 1805 and 1813 were negatively appraised by Rogniat, who to Brandt’s horror perceived the Battle of Austerlitz, where Napoleon defeated the enemy in a style worthy of Caesar, as an operation conducted as badly as the disaster of 1812.89 Brandt notice that although Decker generally agreed with Rogniat’s theory, their views diverged when it came to translating theory into its product. Rogniat considered Marengo to be Napoleon’s best-calculated campaign. Decker only saw in it a strategic and tactical detour.90 Brandt, in turn, did not agree with two of Decker’s postulates. He considered as doubtful the idea of using the Landwehr and Landsturm as a reserve army in the Rogniat spirit. In Brandt’s opinion, the nation had to be ready for defence when the fatherland was threatened. However, the idea of using the masses in offensive operations seemed to him as fantasy.91 On the other hand, Brandt praised Decker’s approach to defensive operations in his opinion based on the views of Archduke Charles and Jomini, involving the concentration of troops in the centre, attacking the main forces of the enemy, and thus gaining the initiative. According to Brandt, this approach was only correct and possible in defence.92 In his support of Napoleon’s views, this former officer of the Legion of the Vistula behaved as a loyal student who dismissed all criticisms of his master’s actions as the inventions of ignorance. Brandt held the view that there were two types of operation: offensive and defensive. These had the identical goal of weakening, dispersion, and destruction of enemy forces. The only difference was in the ways they achieved the goal. All offensive operations attempted to deprive the enemy of the source of supplies and reinforcements (Hilsfquelle) and to fully utilise these supplies. Rich provinces and towns were the state’s power base, and therefore they were the main target. In order to do this, one needed to know the country where the fighting was to take place. It was not just a matter of knowing the physical 89 90 91 92

Ibid., 112–123. Ibid., 123–127. Ibid., 109. Ibid., 127.

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d­ escription of the country, because it was also important to take into account the physical and technological culture, the trade, as well as the nation’s intellectual culture. The size of a modern army had to change in accordance with the art of war. There was no longer a division between the area of war operations and the territory beyond it, for now not armies but masses of people were pitted against each other. This naturally led to the extension of fighting into territories hitherto considered unsuitable for military operations, which was a repetition of Valentini’s thought. Troops generally marched on roads. Brandt introduced important concepts: Haupt and Neben-Gegenstände (Objekte). He called roads leading to targets Operations-linie, and roads linking two targets Transversal-Strasse (after Pelet). Brandt refrained from discussing remaining types of road and instead referred the reader to the writings of Bülow, Jomini, and Wagner. Nevertheless, he stressed that the description of roads was always of key importance during war.93 Brandt used the classical strategic terminology, but dealt with it briefly and superficially. He had no intention of elaborating line theory, which in the works of Jomini, Wagner, and Bülow he considered to be overly complicated and a confusing approach that disoriented rather than explained anything. His attitude was markedly different to that of Valentini, who consistently promoted Jomini’s system of internal lines, although with regard to defence Brandt was in favour of Jomini’s concept. Brandt’s views, however, were closest to those of Rühle and Lossau, who were also not in favour of elaborate theories regarding bases and lines. This state of affairs was also emphasised by the reviewer, who believed that Brandt was primarily trying to show that planning an operation in every detail was futile. All systems proposed by Bülow and others like him were therefore regarded by Brandt to be erroneous. This was because for him the greatest general was the spirit, the stroke of genius, courage, and, above all, chance.94 It was for this reason that apart from some comments about fortresses and universal military service, Brandt basically did not move the subject of constructing a state system of defence, which for him was in any case more of a symptomatic nature. In reference to defensive operation plans, he stated that they could be divided into three types. The first was the attempt to push the fighting back into the ­invader’s territory and conducting there, circumstances permitting, offensivedefensive warfare. The second types was an attempt to take and hold a point or road in a border province, and the third type was the Volksbewaffung. Each of these types of action required different sorts of preparation and more talent than in offensive operations. The first type of operation was possible when one 93 Brandt, Handbuch, 69–82. 94 ‘Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht’, 108–109.

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had numerical superiority but were temporarily unable to initiate an offensive. A different approach was required when fighting in one’s own country, where the chief principle was to prolong the war against a numerically superior invader until their forces were weakened and troop morale was lowered due to everyday clashes. In this case, it was important to use fortresses as points of support.95 For Brandt, both in attack and defence, the main form of combat was the battle. Following Valentini, he stated that battles should be fought when there was no other way of achieving the goal or when it was possible to destroy the enemy forces. He distinguished two types of battle: holding a position and waiting for the enemy (defensive) and tracking down enemy forces (offensive). Contemporary theorists proposed a third type, the ‘march battle’ (Marschschlachten). Brandt, however, thought this idea was wrong. Even if two armies encountered each other by accident, they would not immediately clash but first take up an appropriate position, which meant that it would take the form of one of the two types of battle, even if there was not enough time to fortify the terrain. In defensive battles, the main task was to prepare positions and knowledge of the character of the enemy commander. The choice of battlefield should be determined by the needs of the operation; primarily one should secure the object of the operation and one’s own lines of operation, ensuring that one’s flanks are protected by obstacles in the terrain.96 According to many military writers, attacking the enemy presented fewer problems because it primarily relied on the morale of the troops. However, an able opponent could upend this advantage. An attack could easily be turned into a defence. An attack of enemy positions would not necessarily be without obstacles. Knowing enemy positions was a crucial factor, and the best way to achieve this was through detailed reconnaissance. All this determined the method of attack.97 Particularly noteworthy is the third and final type of defence, the Volksbewaffung, which he treated separately, probably owing to his experiences in Spain and Russia during his service in the Legion of the Vistula. Brandt noted that Volkskrieg had become a permanent subject in contemporary military handbooks. On closer inspection, however, he felt one could see that it was a specific case.98 By a people’s war, he understood a war that concentrated the energy and strength of the citizens in a direction determined by the state authorities, in which the majority was not indifferent and willing to make 95 Brandt, Handbuch, 87–90. 96 Ibid., 164–169. 97 Ibid., 213–215. 98 Ibid., 321–322.

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s­ acrifices for the fatherland.99 Thus, the people’s war required the nation to be educated to the moral initiative in defending the fatherland. Only then was there any guarantee that the people wouldf participate in the war and only then would it make any sense and become a reality. The strength of the masses rested on the strength of the spirit that drove them into action, which why they had to be infused with the idea of the whole. In a people’s war, the capital could not be the only centre of fighting; points of conflict needed to break out in the provinces. Therefore, it was necessary to divide the country in small districts in preparation for the Volkskriege. It was necessary to prepare emergency rally points near major terrain obstacles where small detachments or large masses could be formed to hinder the movement of the invader.100 Although Decker believed that people’s wars could also not be waged without a base, Brandt considered that this simply resulted from a misunderstanding of the term, because it exclusively referred to reserve troops that followed the army. Rivers, mountains, fortresses, and garrisons could not be perceived as a base in a people’s war and could not secure roads. The examples of the wars in Vendée and Spain clearly showed that systematic operations in people’s wars could not be effective.101 According to Brandt, Decker considered taking a province to be its occupation and leaving the advancing enemy forces behind. The examples of war in Russia and Spain clearly showed, however, that that was not the case. In both cases, the French controlled all the fortified positions and were able to move freely in all directions. However, despite this, it was difficult to say whether they controlled the provinces behind their lines. In Brandt’s opinion, the same situation would have occurred in France in 1815, even if Napoleon had managed to establish a dynasty for a hundred years and nurtured loyal subjects.102 Despite the advantages of the people’s war, Brandt believed that without the support of a regular army, it was dangerous and of no use. All irregular activities without preparation and support ended, as history taught, badly.103 Brandt’s views in this matter were, therefore, close to those of Boyen, though they were primarily based on his own experiences of fighting against insurgents. Brandt saw clear advantages in popular uprisings provided the government and the citizens were well prepared. In essence they were a specific, 99

‘Wir verstehen unter Volkskrieg einen Kampf in dem die Energie und Kraft aller Bürger eines Staats sich mit entgegenkommender Bereitwilligkeit in der durch das Staats-­ Oberhaupt vorgezeichneten Richtung bewegt , und die Mehrzahl zwischen Selbstaufopferung oder Rettung des Vaterlandes nicht unschlüssig bleibt’; ibid., 322. 100 Ibid., 324–328. 101 Brandt, Ansichten, 100–101. 102 Ibid., 98–99. 103 Brandt, Handbuch, 361–363.

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g­ overned by its own rights, form of regular war. This opinion was contrary to the views of Valentini, who rejected all uprisings as means of warfare. Brandt, fully appreciating the moral factor, saw in civilians defending their homeland the same potency as in the armies of revolutionary France. Therefore, his acceptance of this form of fighting is hardly surprising, though it was only justified in circumstances when there was no regular army to defend the homeland. The reviewer of Handbuch considered this part of the work as one of the most interesting.104 He noted that under the influence of recent historical events, many writers were campaigning against permanent armies and idealising the concept of insurrections. The generalisations they made on the basis of historical examples usually ignored differences in social relations. This made Brandt’s comments all the more valuable, because he managed to capture the decisive factor in contemporary popular uprisings: enthusiasm for the fight. Brandt devoted a lot of text to the matter of nurturing such enthusiasm and educating citizens in the idea of a people’s war. The reviewer refrained from describing the section on preparing the country for war, which Brandt did not present as a system but rather as factors resulting from the nature of war. However, he wrote about it in a precise way and that is probably why the reviewer, not wishing to spoil the positive impression of this part of Handbuch, stressed how difficult it was in contemporary times to reach an understanding between the government and the subjects that would guarantee the full participation of the people in a war. In attempting to assess Brandt’s views on strategy expressed in his works published in the 1820s, in many respects they were quite different from those of previous authors. Rühle, Decker, Valentini, and Lossau were well-educated staff officers whose opinions resulted from their scholarly investigations into the art of war. Despite differences, in many respects their views were similar or were based on similar examples since they used the same Prussian conceptual and problematic network. Here, Brandt, whose military experience was gained by serving in Napoleon’s army, stood out. His views were influenced by the French and his paradigm was active service in the field, not scholarly research. Thus his views were a combination of his erudition with extensive military service experience in times of war and peace. As a result, his first works were far less systematic, while at the same time they constituted a rich source of references to literature concerning diverse fields of knowledge. These were hardly dry military treatises, but rather reflections based on extensive knowledge and experience. One will not find discussions on leading topics of Prussian strategic thought of the time. He only briefly referred to the question of 104 ‘Handbuch für den ersten Unterricht’, 123–125.

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preparing for war. And even if he did emphasise the human factor, as the reviewer rightly notes, Brandt did not try to outline a system. He considered as totally pointless all complex considerations on operation bases and lines, which in his eyes were simply superfluous casuistry. Similarly unnecessary and inconsequential were all deliberations over the definition and essence of ‘strategy’. Brandt was, therefore, much more radical and consistent in his views than his friend Valentini. Similar to Lossau, at the very centre of the art of war he saw the naturally talented leader, for whom a scientific education could indeed be helpful in conducting a campaign, but in no way could it replace his genius. The importance of the personality of the leader increased all the more in a time when the moral factor predominated in war. Only a commander able to reach each soldier individually, so that together they could create an efficiently functioning whole, had any chance of achieving great victories. Brandt’s approach to the actual execution of an operation was simple, though with an indication that it was the most difficult element of war, involving great risks, uncertainty, and chance. This was, therefore, similar to Clausewitz’s later views, which have traditionally been called the pillars of Prussian ‘romantic’ military thought after 1815. Brandt was undoubtedly part of this scheme, and the wide acceptance of his views might also serve as evidence that such a trend did exist among the officers of Frederick William iii. Nevertheless, it should be noted that due to his specific military experiences, his views on strategy differed from those of the highest ranking officers, and in fact his understanding of strategy was closer to Clausewitz’s radical criticism than the ideas promoted by Boyen, Grolman, Hake, or Müffling.

Conclusion The year 1830 was a turning point in the post-Congress history of 19th-century Prussia, marked by many scholars as the start of the Vormärz period, leading to the 1848 revolutions. After the 1820s decade of escalating international tensions, another continental-scale conflict again faced Europe. From the Prussian point of view, the events of 1830–1833, especially the November Uprising and its aftermath, posed the greatest challenge to the monarchy since its defeat by Napoleon a quarter of a century earlier. These years became a reference point and impulse shaping Prussian strategic concepts up to the end of the decade. The danger from resurgent French power was sensed throughout the German Confederation, leading to many initiatives. The 1840 Rhine crisis proved that the German states were right to focus on the western border. From the Prussian perspective, it was further justified by the diminished threat from the Kingdom of Poland, a situation that lasted until the outbreak of the March revolutions, which ended a stage in Prussian history following the Napoleonic Wars and fundamentally changed the internal and external development of its strategic thought. The results of research confirms an inaccuracy in the historiography of Prussian military thought in the years 1815–1830 as being dominated by the theoretical achievements of Carl von Clausewitz, resulting from the submission of scholars to the dictates of the Prussian and German armies before 1945. Studies have chiefly relied on analyzing German secondary works and to a lesser degree on archival materials. This approach stems from the inaccurate conviction that most Prussian army documents from the first half of the 19th century perished in a fire following a British air raid in April 1945. As a result, the study of Prussian military literature has been carried out divorced from the realities in which secondary works were written and used to present Prussian military thought. The typical practice has been to interpret those few sources that have been known for a long time without broadening the research base, and to ignore the sectarian nature of German works written before 1945, which promoted the interests and goals of the German army. An analysis of the related 19th-century terms Kriegswissenschaften and Militärliteratur indicates the need to modify the traditional approach to the term ‘military thought’. More useful would be to use the English language literature term ‘military intellectual’. Approaching the problem from this point of view widens the catalogue of potential creators of ‘military thought’: civilian experts closely connected with the army, academic staff (though chiefly in the post-1945 period), retired soldiers, and soldiers in active service divided into

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those who write and those using their rank to promote ideas or those of their protégés. This approach is supported by the social sciences’ concept of ‘military culture’. The 19th-century Prussian army produced the model professional officer, professing a specific service ethos corresponding to the concept of a subculture within Prussian society. This approach required a thorough search of the archives for all documents concerning how the Prussian army formulated strategic concepts, how the highest military authorities were organised, how wars were planned, the process of training, and the attitude of the army to military literature. Such research made possible the selection, from a body of extant sources, those that allowed conclusions with regard to war planning and related institutional issues. The sources at the Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz in Berlin-Dahlem, as expected, are of the greatest value. It includes not only remnants of the fonds of the Prussian army and Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but the private legacies of particular officers and key figures of the state. Many materials, considered to be lost and only cited in excerpts in secondary works, were able to be uncovered. The study was supplemented with materials from the Bundesarchiv Abteilung Militärarchiv at Freiburg im Breisgau, Bundesarchiv Abteilung Berlin-Lichterfelde, Kartenabteilung Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Landeshauptarchiv in Koblenz, State Archive in Posen, and the University Library Manuscripts Department at the Catholic University of Lublin. Despite the successes of research, extant archival sources do not completely document all periods in this study. The 1815–1819 period is the most fully represented, and from an institutional perspective documents allow for an analysis of defence planning in the years 1821–1830. Works on military theory and military periodicals, available in equal measure, allow for a presentation of key aspects of Prussian strategic thought throughout the 1815–1830 period. Extant institutional sources made possible not only the selection of important issues, but also the identification of the roles of particular individuals in the shaping of military thought. An analysis of each work accounts for the influence of a given author, as well as his connections in the Prussian army. This allowed the detection of discernible trends in Prussian reflections on war rather than a detailed analysis of each work. A significant role was played by review articles in military ­periodicals: Militair-Wochenblatt, Denkwürdigkeiten für die Kriegskunst und Kriegsgeschichte, Militairische Blätter, Militair-Litteratur-Zeitung, Zeitschrift für Kunst, Wissenschaft und Geschichte des Krieges. Censorship from 1823 on reflects permissible areas of interest and reflection. Consideration of three factors – the organisation of the military authorities, the process of defence planning, and military literature – provided the basis

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for a construction of Prussian strategic thought beyond the Unification War for the 1815–1830 period. An analysis of the institutions of that period reveals faults provided by historiography that is based on institutions in the second half of the 19th century. For this reason, scholars have primarily focused on the Prussian General Staff. Research, however, shows that the system of military authorities had more in common with the period prior to reforms that followed the 1805 defeat. A brief attempt to introduce constitutional rule within the Ministry of War in taking full control of the army ended in failure in 1819. The idea had been opposed by Frederick William iii from the outset in an attempt to restore ‘Prussian military monarchy’, a system in which the army was exclusively controlled through personal connection with the monarchy. This involved an extensive catalogue of institutions, including the Ministry of War, the King’s Military Cabinet, adjutant generals, the General Staff, the Engineers and Pioneers Corps, the General Artillery Command, as well as commanders of the General Commands and Army Corps in the provinces. In essence, however, only the Ministry of War had a formal influence on how strategy was perceived throughout the period. Hence, there was no official war doctrine in the Prussian army, further complicated by the fact that strategic planning was largely symptomatic. The creation and implementation of operation plans were considered immeasurable tasks which depended on unique factors that should be entrusted only to an experienced and talented commander, resulting in extant documents being not particularly revealing. Most Prussian decision makers, however, were convinced that it was possible, and necessary, to prepare material resources for a future conflict, especially in the context of defence against enemy aggression. This developed into the ‘defence system’ model, which included organising the armed forces, the natural and civilizational properties of the country, and a network of fortifications. The establishment of rules how these factors should interact was the primary concern of ‘defence planning’, whose objective was to arrest the advance of the enemy and create conditions for the concentration of the country’s main forces. The role of the General Staff specialised in intelligence gathering and describing operational conditions, while provincial commanders were obliged to issue the first orders to defend the province. It is not entirely clear whether in peacetime there were central guidelines for the army corps in the event of war; without doubt, however, the General Staff carried out studies into how to act in the event of an enemy attack in one of three predicted theatres of war. Although comparisons with concepts in the times of Helmuth von Moltke the Elder are difficult to determine, before 1857 one can certainly speak of the process of operation planning in Prussia.

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Prussian war planning in the years 1830–1833 was indeed symptomatic. Throughout the period, Frederick William iii remained the chief decision maker on whose will the missions of individual officers were assigned, regardless of their official functions. Therefore, those who had decisive influences on formulating Prussian strategy had diverse and not always high-ranking positions. This is demonstrated in the cases of Gneisenau, Grolman, and Clausewitz, though the roles of Witzleben and Knesebeck also exceeded their theoretical range of duties. Consequently, as Kessel has noted, a kind of ‘free competition’ developed in Prussian planning, causing the number of planners to be blurred. Thus Clausewitz’s private memoranda at a certain point became the official opinions of important decision makers in Berlin, which was accordingly the political stance of Gneisenau. Contrary to military literature in this period, however, Frederick William iii was reluctant to appoint a single person to conduct overall coordination during a crisis, as that would create too powerful a leader. His preferred style of work assumed diverse collective forms of decision making in councils and committees. Though this was explained, at least in the case of Gneisenau, by a fear of exacerbating the international situation, the reason was quite different. The monarchs of Prussia and Austria in that period dreaded Bonapartism, which was perceived in Germany as the new ‘Wallenstein’s camp’. Such accusations were made against Gneisenau already in 1816, as well as against Archduke Charles Habsburg in Austria. The fear of a talented military commander who could dominate, or even overthrow the monarch, was so great because charismatic leaders were seen as dangerous to monarchies relying on the support of the officer corps. As a result, the creation of specific plans in Prussia was largely associated with political initiatives. In the German Confederation, these initiatives led to the creation of a plan regarding a future war with France. It was based on the conviction that a network of fortresses, prepared positions, and camps along the line of major rivers should be able to delay the enemy’s advance until sufficient forces were mobilised to repel the attack. The purpose of these forces would be to defeat the enemy, either in a pitched battle or by severing its lines of communication. In contrast to Clausewitz’s views, emphasis was placed on flexibility. Contrary to the ideas of the author of Vom Kriege, as well, was the leck of an objective for the second phase of the allied counteroffensive because it was to be determined by circumstances of the moment. Although this plan was less offensive and focused on frontal conflict, it did not see battle as the climax of actions carried out during a given campaign. The reason for taking up flanking ­positions in these calculations was to put the enemy in a disadvantageous situation, so as to defeat it or force a retreat. The ‘small war’ conducted in the border provinces and forced sieges were intended to effectively drain the enemy’s

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r­ esources. The art of war at the start of the 1830s was clearly a synthesis of experiences gained from the Coalition Wars and the realities of how states function in the European Restoration period. In a re-examination of Prussian reflections on war, and to what extent stereotypes in the literature can be verified, the most significant Prussian strategic thought at the time were the works of Johann Otto August Rühle von Lilienstern, Carl von Decker, Georg Wilhelm von Valentini, Johann Friedrich Konstantin von Lossau, and Heinrich von Brandt. Military thought in that period reflected concerns with the defence of the state. The chief of them included the organisation of the armed forces, the construction of fortresses and fortifications, lines of communication, and utilisation of the terrain for military operations. An important role in Prussian military thought was played by the ‘small war’ concept, which was closely associated with ‘defence planning’. In the difficult terrain of the eastern provinces, the plan was to use irregular troops. The general rule was to avoid major clashes and seek to manoeuvre the enemy into a disadvantageous position until one was able launch an offensive. The basis for the assessment of the art of war were analyses of the Napoleonic Wars. Contrary to opinions today, at the time there was no agreement as to whether these wars were an episode or reflected a new era in the art of war, nor was there consensus as to concepts derived from the ‘Napoleonic art of war’. Discussions were strongly inflected by French-language military theorists (Rogniat, Marbot, and Jomini). There was a large and influential group of critics of Napoleon, some of whom based their opinions on 18th-century naturalistic and geometric assumptions. This approach was strongly rooted in the conceptual grid used to perceive strategy, hence concepts such as operation bases, the objective and Subjekten of actions, and lines of operation. Major battles were not considered the only decisive solution to conflicts; a number of works referred to the ‘manoeuvre strategy’ concept. The final trend, which was discernible in the concept of conducting defensive movement (Bewegungskrieg), was based on the use of fortresses as a facture in manoeuvres, a Prussian speciality. At the same time, a group of critics considered this approach to be a reactivation of the positive science of war and was rejected due to the predominant Romantic worldview among military authors. Consequently, many studies devoted to the art of war rejected the usefulness of scientific investigation with regard to real war situations. The Prussian approach to war was eclectic; from the Napoleonic campaigns a conviction was derived that war was of a human and unpredictable nature, while at the same time it was assumed that efforts should be made to make material preparations for war. The latter view was strongly negated by Clausewitz, but the influence of his views on Prussian military thought prior to 1832 should be considered

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­ egligible, and in many cases even contrary to Prussian defence planning in n the years 1815–1830. This is not to say that Prussian military thought in that period was in any way uniform, but rather a clash of typically 18th-century perspectives on war with the Napoleon era legacy. The intellectual circles that surrounded Clausewitz in the 1820s were more inclined to an ordered theory of war, in the style of Jomini and Archduke Charles, although principles of philosophical theory and humanistic assumptions were widely accepted and became predominant a decade later. While publication of Vom Kriege may certainly be considered the apogee of criticism of the ancien regime art of war, it did not amount to a revolution in the Prussian perception of strategy.

Appendix

Biographies

Ernst Ludwig von Aster (5th October 1778–10th February 1855)

Saxon, Russian, and Prussian officer. On the 4th of August 1794, he joined as a non-commissioned officer the Saxon Engineering Corps, commanded by his father Major General Friedrich von Aster (1732–1804). In April 1804 he was promoted to 2nd Lt and transferred as an adjutant to his father. He took part in the campaign against France and the Battle of Jena in 1806. After being promoted to Captain of the general staff on the 12th of October 1809, he developed a new fortification plan for Torgau, which he personally presented to Napoleon. In 1811 he was appointed a Major and director of the planning chamber. He took part in the Russian campaign in 1812 as deputy chief of staff of the vii Army Corps under command of General Jean Reynier (1771–1814). As a Lieutenant Colonel from the 26th of January 1813 he was appointed by the governor of Torgau Johann Adolf von Thielmann (1765–1824) to his chief of staff. In May 1813, after the Battle of Großgörschen, both asked to be released from Saxon service. Having joined the Allied headquarters in Bautzen, Aster served in the Russian General Staff and took part in the battles of Bautzen and Leipzig. At the beginning of December 1813 he became general quartermaster in the iii German Army Corps under the command of Duke Charles Augustus of ­Saxony-Weimar (1757–1828). After the Paris Peace, Thielmann took over the corps and Aster was appointed his chief of staff. Shortly after, the corps received a subordinate order to the Army of the Lower Rhine under the command of the Prussian General Friedrich Kleist von Nollendorf (1762–1823) with headquarters in Koblenz. Appointed Russian Colonel, he wrote in July 1814 the first of many memoranda on the future importance of Koblenz within a new fortification system against France. In 1815 Aster entered the Prussian service and became chief of General Staff of the the ii Army Corps. He took part in the battles of Ligny and Waterloo and in the sieges of several French fortresses on the north border. As a Major General (the 4th of October 1815), he took over the position of senior brigadier of the 3rd Engineering Brigade in Ehrenbreitstein at the beginning of 1816. Aster became a subordinate of the General Inspector of the Prussian fortresses, Gustav von Rauch. He commanded the construction of the fortress Koblenz. On the 1st of May 1826, he was appointed commander of the Koblenz – Ehrenbreitstein Fortress and on the 30th of March 1827, Lieutenant General. Aster left Koblenz in 1837 and relocated to Berlin,

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where he succeeded General Rauch as Chief of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps and the General Inspector of Fortress. He also became a member of the Prussian State Council. Promoted to General of Infantry on the 31st of March 1842, he was ordered to retire on the 30th of January 1849. Aster took part in fortifying several fortresses, including in Cologne, Posen, and Königsberg. Sources ‘Ernst Ludwig von Aster’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 355–360. M. Jähns, ‘Aster: Ernst Ludwig von’, adb, vol. 1 (Leipzig, 1875), 627–628. H. Kraft, ‘Aster, Ernst Ludwig von ’, Neue Deutsche Biographie (ndb), vol. 1 (Berlin, 1953), 422. Kurzer Lebens-Abriss des weil. königlich preussischen Generals Ernst Ludwig von Aster: nach Aufsätzen, Briefen, Aufzeichnungen etc. des Generals; nebst einem Anhang, bestehend aus drei in neuerer Zeit von E.L. v. Aster verfassten Aufsätzen politischen Inhalts (Berlin, 1878).

Prince Augustus, respectably Prince Friedrich Wilhelm Heinrich August of Prussia (19th September 1779–19th July 1843)

Youngest son of Prince Ferdinand of Prussia (1730–1813) and Anna Elisabeth Luise von Brandenburg-Schwedt (1738–1820), nephew of King Frederick the Great. At the age of 18 he was appointed a Captain in the Infantry Regiment ‘von Larisch’. Promoted to Major in 1800 and three years later transferred to the Infantry Regiment ‘von Arnim’, where he took over command of the grenadier battalion. As a Lieutenant Colonel he took part in the Battle of Auerstedt. After the meeting at Prenzlau, he was taken as a prisoner of war and brought to France with his adjutant Carl von Clausewitz (1780–1831). Both returned to Berlin after the peace agreement at the end of October 1807. He was promoted to Major General on the 11th of November 1807. In March 1808 he went to Königsberg, where on the 8th of August the King appointed him General Inspector of the Artillery and commander of the East Prussian Artillery Regiment. He reorganized the artillery, in cooperation with General Gerhard von Scharnhorst, until 1813. Prince Augustus took part in the 1813, 1813, and 1815 campaigns as a Lieutenant General (beginning on the 14th of March 1813). For his participation in the Battle of Großgörschen he was awarded the Iron Cross 2nd Class. He took over the 12th Brigade in the ii Army Corps and fought in the battles of Dresden, Kulm, Leipzig, Vauchamps, and Champaubert. After spending the winter of 1814/15 at the Congress in Vienna, he took part in the siege war in

Biographies

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northern France in June 1815. Promoted to General of the Infantry on the 30th of May 1814, he became Commanding General of the ii Army Corps on the 30th of June 1815. After the Napoleonic Wars, he returned to Berlin. From 1816 until his death he held the position of General Inspector of the Artillery. In cooperation with Lieutenant General Gustav von Rauch he established the Artillery and Engineering School. He died in Bromberg and was buried in the Berlin Cathedral. His sister Luise married Prince Antoni Radziwiłł. Sources E. Graf zur Lippe-Weißenfeld, ‘August, Prinz von Preußen’, adb, vol. 1 (Leipzig, 1875), 671–674. ‘Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm Heinrich August von Preußen’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3 (Hamburg, 1937), 276–283.

Karl Leopold Heinrich Ludwig von Borstell (30th December 1773–9th May 1844)

Third of four sons of the Prussian general Hans Friedrich Heinrich von Borstell (1730–1804) and Charlotte von Ingersleben (1749–1815), daughter of the Prussian general Johann Ludwig von Ingersleben (1703–1757). He began his military career in the Prussian army in the 7th Cuirassier Regiment in 1788. Shortly after he became an adjutant to his father, who was Major General and commander of the regiment. In 1793 he took part in the campaign in the Palatinate and fought in the Battle of Kaiserslautern. On the 11th of December 1793 he was awarded the Order Pour le Mérite. Borstell was a member of the Military Society. As a Major of the Garde du Corps, after the Battle of Jena he escaped the French and joined troops commanded by Gebhard von Blücher (1742–1819). Following the Peace of Tilsit in 1807, he became a member of the Commission for the Reorganization of the Army. He was promoted to Colonel in 1809 and commander of the Pomeranian Brigade in 1811. In February 1813 he operated on the Oder line. As Major General he took part in the 1813 campaign under the command of General Friedrich Wilhelm von Bülow (1755–1816). After the victory of Dennewitz he received the Iron Cross 1st Class. In addition, on the 21st of October 1813, the king awarded him the oak leaves to Pour le Mérite. After the Battle of Leipzig, he was promoted to Lieutenant General. He blocked Wesel and ­entered Belgium in early 1814. In 1815 he became commander of the ii Prussian Army Corps. He received orders to separate the Saxon troops according to the division of Saxony, which precipitated the uprising of three Saxon battalions in Liège. Borstell refused to follow the order of

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Blücher to burn the banners of Saxon regiments and execute the leaders of rebellion. Because of that he was relieved of his command on the 8th of May 1815 and, after a court martial, sentenced to four years in prison for insubordination. In January 1816, at the request of Blücher, he was pardoned and appointed commander of Magdeburg. In the same year he became Commanding General of the Generalkommando in Königsberg. On the 18th of June 1825, he was transferred to Koblenz as commander of the viii Army Corps and General of the Cavalry. On the 9th of May 1840, Borstell was appointed a member of the State Council. From the 4th of November 1840, he was also President of the General Order Commission. He died in Berlin and was buried in the old garrison cemetery. Sources E. Demmler, ‘Borstell, Ludwig von’, ndb, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1955), 478. ‘Karl Leopold Heinrich Ludwig von Borstell’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3 (Hamburg, 1937), 83–390. F. von Meerheimb, ‘Borstell: Karl Heinrich Ludwig v.’, adb, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1876), 181–183.

Leopold Hermann Ludwig von Boyen the Elder (20th June 1771–15th February 1848)

Son of lieutenant colonel and regimental commander Johann Friedrich von Boyen (1720–1777) and Hedwig Sophie, born von Holtzendorff (1735–1778). His uncle Ernst Johann Sigismund von Boyen (1726–1806) was a Prussian General of the Cavalry and Knight of the Order of the Black Eagle. After the early death of his parents, Boyen was raised by his father’s unmarried sister in Königsberg. In April 1784 he joined the Prussian Army as corporal in the Infantry Regiment ‘von Anhalt’. After his appointment as Portepeefähnrich he was transferred to the Infantry Regiment ‘von Wildau’ in December 1786 and became a 2nd Lt. Boyen graduated from the War School in Königsberg. In 1794–1795 he took part in the campaign against the Kościuszko Uprising in Poland as adjutant to the General of Johann von Günther (1736–1803). He was promoted to Captain of the staff in 1799. From 1803 he was a member of Gerhard von Scharnhorst’s Military Society. He took part in the war of 1806 as general staff officer under the command of Frederick William Duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel (1771– 1815), and was wounded in Battle of Auerstedt. After the Peace of Tilsit he

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b­ ecame a Major and member of the Commission for the Reorganization of the Army in 1807 under Scharnhorst. In 1810 he was appointed the director of the Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement in the Ministry of War. He consistently advocated the reforms of Karl Freiherr vom Stein (1757–1831). In 1811 he attempted, together with Scharnhorst and August Neidhardt von Gneisenau (1760–1831), to convince King Frederick William iii to declare war with France. When Prussia stayed allied with France in 1812, Boyen left the army in the rank of Colonel and, like many other Prussian officers, went to Russia to join the war against Napoleon. When Prussia changed sides in 1813, Boyen returned to Frederick William iii service. He served as Colonel in the staff of Friedrich Wilhelm von Bülow. After the Battle of Großgörschen he was given the order for mobilization in the Brandenburg and, if necessary, the defense of Berlin. During the armistice, Friedrich Wilhelm iii appointed him to the chief of the General Staff of the iii Army Corps. Boyen participated in battles during the campaigns of 1813 and 1814. For his behavior in the Battle of Dennewitz, he was awarded the Iron Cross 1st Class and promoted to Major General on the 8th of December 1813. After the First Peace of Paris in August 1814, Boyen organized the new Ministry of War. He was awarded the Order Pour le Mérite with oak leaves. He was the main architect of the concept of universal military service and the Landwehr, and a leader of Prussian liberals. For his work, he was awarded the Order of the Red Eagle 1st Class, and promoted to Lieutenant General on the 30th of March 1818. As a protest against changes in the organization of the Landwehr he resigned as minister of war in December 1819. He lived for 21 years as a private person and worked on many historical and military studies. King Friedrich Wilhelm iv on his accession to the throne called him back to active service as General of the Infantry. After the death of the Minister of War Gustav von Rauch on the 28th of February 1841, Boyen was established as the head of the Ministry. He was responsible for the implementation of a new mobilization plan for the Prussian army, fortifications on the right flank of Vistula, and the establishment of the route of the Ostbahn. In November 1847 he resigned and was appointed Field Marshal and Governor of the Invalidenhaus in Berlin. Boyen died in Berlin. Sources M. Jähns, ‘Boyen: Leopold Hermann Ludwig v.’, adb, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1876), 219–222. ‘Ludwig Leopold Gottlieb Hermann von Boyen’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 5 (Hamburg, 1938), 27–47.

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F. Meinecke, Das Leben des Generalfeldmarschalls Hermann von Boyen, vol. 1–2 (Stuttgart, 1896–1899). F. Schnabel, ‘Boyen, Hermann von’, ndb, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1955), 495–498.

Heinrich August von Brandt, also known as Henryk Brandt (2nd August 1789–23rd January 1868)

Son of a bailiff from Neumark. He studied law at the Albertus University in Königsberg in East Prussia. In 1806 he became ensign in one of the newly formed provisional battalions that were deployed against Napoleon. Following the Peace of Tilsit his homeland was incorporated into the Duchy of Warsaw. Therefore, in 1808 he joined the Polish Legion of the Vistula, serving in the Napoleonic army in the Peninsular War. In Napoleon’s war against Russia, Brandt was promoted to Captain. He was badly wounded near Leipzig in 1813 and fell into Russian captivity. Initially an officer in the Army of the Kingdom of Poland, from 1816 he served in the Prussian army, from 1830 as Major in the General Staff. He participated in the suppression of the November Uprising as a member of Field Marshal August Neidhardt von Gneisenau’s staff. In 1831 he was sent to Elbing (Elbląg), where he reached an agreement, according to which the Polish army crossed the Prussian border and immediately laid down arms. He returned to Berlin and gave lectures on the history of wars at the Allgemeine Kriegsschule, from 1837 to 1838 as chief of Kriegstheater section in ggs, from 1838 to 1848 as chief of gs of the ii Army Corps, promoted to Lieutenant Colonel in 1840 and Colonel in 1842. From 1848 to 1850 as commander of 10th Infantry Brigade in Posen he participated in the suppression of an uprising in Greater Poland, decisively defeating Florian Dąbrowski in the Battle of Xions (Książ Wielkopolski). In 1848, temporarily as undersecretary in the Ministry of War, he acquired the post of Major General. Between 1850 and 1853 he was commandant of Posen, from 1853 commander of the 10th Division in the rank of Lt General, and in 1857 as reserve General of the Infantry. That same year the University of Königsberg awarded him the honorary title of Doctor of Philosophy for achievements in the field of military history, and from 1863 as president of the Supreme Awards Commission. Awarded many times, his ­honors included the French Legion of Honour, Pour le Mérite Order, and Red Eagle Order. Sources H.A. von Brandt, Aus dem Leben des Generals der Infanterie Dr Heinrich von Brandt, ed. Heinrich von Brandt, parts 1–3 (Berlin, 1868–1882).

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‘Heinrich August von Brandt’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 6 (Hamburg, 1938), 213–215. F. von Meerheimb, ‘Brandt: Heinrich v.’, adb, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1876), 253–255. H. Kraft, ‘Brandt Heinrich von’, ndb, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1955), 531. Historische Abtheilung des Grossen Generalstabs, ‘Nekrolog des Generals des Infanterie v. Brandt’, Beiheft zum Militair-Wochenblatt 2 (1868), 1–20.

Friedrich Ludwig von Ciriacy (13th January 1786–12th August 1829)

Son of the Captain of the Guard Regiment. In 1798 he came to the Kadettenhaus in Berlin and in 1801 joined the Infantry Regiment ‘von Junker’. He was wounded in the Battle of Jena. In Silesia, he served in a grenadier company, then as an adjutant in the fusilier battalion. From 1810 he attended the Allgemeine Kriegsschule in Berlin. In 1812 to 1813 he served in Glatz and Neisse. Wounded in the Battle of Großgörschen, after recovery he was transferred to the General Staff and served in the 9th Brigade. In January 1814 he moved with the brigade to Luxembourg, where he took part in the battles of Soissons, La Ferté, Etoges, and Montmartre. From 1815 in the General Staff of the 5th Brigade, he fought at Ligny and Waterloo. He took part in the sieges of Maubeuge, Philippeville, Givet, and Charlemont. For his achievements in the war, he received the Iron Cross 1st Class. After peace he became a division adjutant, first in Magdeburg then in Frankfurt (Oder). In 1816 he was promoted to Captain and in 1818 was transferred to the Ministry of War. From 1822 as a teacher at the Allgemeine Kriegsschule he was appointed Major in the following year. He died on the 12th of August 1829; his health had been undermined during many campaigns. Sources F. von Meerheimb, ‘Ciriacy: Ludwig Friedrich von’, adb, vol. 4 (Leipzig, 1876), 266–267.

Carl Otto Johann von Decker (21st April 1784–29th June 1844)

Son of a Prussian Lt. General and artillery officer Friedrich Wilhelm Heinrich von Decker (1744–1828). He served in his father’s battery in Warsaw in 1797. In 1800 he became an officer and took part in the 1806–1807 campaign as a Lieutenant in the mounted artillery. He distinguished himself at the Battle of ­and received the Pour le Mérite. In 1809 he joined the Corps of

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Frederick ­William Duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, traveled with him through northern Germany, and followed him to England, where he was promoted to Rittmeister. In 1813 he returned to Prussia and became a Captain in the General Staff. He served in the General Ernst von Klüx Brigade, then in the Prince Augustus Brigade, where he took part in the campaign in France in the winter of 1814. In 1815 he was general staff officer of the General Georg von Pirch Brigade and received the Iron Cross 1st Class for his distinction in the battles of Ligny and Waterloo. After peace, Decker remained in the General Staff, and as Major from 1817 became a teacher of artillery at the Allgemeine Kriegsschule, as well as at the Artillery and Engineering School. In 1820 he was raised to the rank of nobility, in 1821 appointed chief of a section in the Topographical Bureau, and soon after a member of the Higher Military Examination Commission. At the instigation of Prince Augustus, he resigned from practical service in 1829 and was appointed interim Brigadier of the 8th Brigade, and in 1831 as Brigadier of the 1st Brigade. In 1835 he was promoted to Colonel, and in 1841 to Major General. He died in 1844. Sources ‘Friedrich Karl Otto von Decker’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 6 (Hamburg, 1938), 69. F. von Meerheimb, ‘Decker: Karl v.’, adb, vol 5 (Leipzig, 1877), 8–10.

Karl von der Groeben (17th September 1788–13th July 1876)

Son of Ernst Wolfgang Albrecht von der Groeben (1740–1818) and Albertine Luise Ernestine, born von Ostau (1756–1812). He joined a Prussian cavalry regiment in 1806, became a Lieutenant in 1807, and fought in the Battles of ­Preußisch-Eylau and of Thorn. He left the Prussian army in 1812 because he refused to fight against Russia. He joined the Russian army and took part in the battles of Großgörschen and Bautzen. He returned to Prussian service in August 1813, fought in battles of Dresden, Kulm, and Leipzig. He took part in the campaign in France in the General Staff of the Army of Silesia. From 1814 as Major he fought in the battles of Ligny and Waterloo. Appointed to the General Staff of the Generalkommando in Koblenz, he served under his friend Carl von Clausewitz. In 1817 he was promoted to chief of General Staff of the Silesian Generalkommando. As Colonel in 1823 he became chief of General Staff of ii Army Corps in 1824. In 1834 he was promoted to Major General and commander of the the 3rd Cavalry Brigade. In 1838 he served as commander of the 14th Division, was promoted to Lieutenant General in 1842, and from 1843 as

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Adjutant General of King Frederick William iv. In March 1848 he was appointed commander of the vii Army Corps. He received the command of the ii Army Corps during the campaign in Baden in 1849, and a year later commanded Prussian troops in Hesse. Appointed General of the Cavalry in March 1852, he was given command of the Guard in June 1853. Groeben had been part of the Prussian Herrenhaus since 1854. On the 1st of June 1858 he retired from active service, but remained Adjutant General to the king. Sources ‘Karl Graf von der Groeben’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 5 (Hamburg, 1938), 221–227. F. von Meerheimb, ‘Gröben: Graf Karl von der’, adb, vol. 5 (Leipzig, 1879), 705–706.

Karl Wilhelm Georg von Grolman (30th July 1777–1st June 1843)

Son of the president of Berlin’s tribunal and co-author of the Prussian Allgemeinen Landrechts Heinrich Dietrich von Grolman (1740–1840). At the age of 14 he entered as a Junker to the Regiment ‘Möllendorff’. From 1805 in the rank of Captain, he was entrusted with various military tasks during the 1806/07 war, initially as an adjutant to Field Marshal Wichard von Möllendorff (1724– 1816) and to General Friedrich von Kalckreuth (1737–1818), then in the staff of Frederick Louis, Prince of Hohenlohe-Ingelfingen (1846–1818). He narrowly escaped the surrender of Prenzlau, then served in General Staff of the Corps commanded by General Anton Wilhelm von L’Estocq (1738–1815). He was wounded in the Battle of Soldau on the 26th of December 1806 and received the Pour le Mérite. He was romoted to Major in June 1807 after the Battle of Heilsberg. Following the Peace of Tilsit, Grolman was appointed to the ­Commission for the Reorganization of the Army headed by Gerhard von Scharnhorst, as a Prussian officer of the liberal and patriotic fraction. He was under the influence of Stein, Scharnhorst, and Wilhelm von Humboldt (1767– 1835). On the 1st of March 1809 he was transferred to the newly formed Ministry of War as director of the 1st Division of the Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement. After Austria’s declaration of war against Napoleon, he left the Prussian army and joined the staff of General Michael von Kienmayer (1756–1828) in Saxony. After the armistice of Znaim at the beginning of April 1810 he defied Scharnhorst and went to Spain. He was a battalion commander of the Foreign Legion, and after the fall of the Sagunt fortress in January 1812 was a French prisoner. In August 1812 he arrived in Jena and began studies at the University

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on the course of the Russian campaign. In the spring of 1813 Grolman joined the Prussian army as Major. Initially he served as general staff officer to Commander-in-Chief of the Russian-Prussian troops Mikhail Barclay de Tolly (1761–1818), then in the ii Army Corps under Friedrich Kleist von Nollendorf from the Autumn of 1813. He took part at the battles of Kulm and Leipzig, for which he received oak leaves to Pour le Mérite. Promoted to Major General in May 1814, he participated as a general staff officer at Blücher’s headquarters. After Hermann von Boyen’s appointment to the first Prussian Minister of War in June 1814, Grolman became a director of the 2nd Department. Along with Boyen he failed in the rivalry with conservative court circles and once again left the royal service in December 1819. He returned to the army as commander of the 9th division in Glogau in 1825. From 1833 until his death he was Commanding General of the v Army Corps in Posen. In cooperation with Provincial President Eduard von Flottwell, he was responsible for a strong anti-Poles itinerary in the Grand Duchy of Posen. In the final years of his life he strictly cooperated with Boyen, who was again Minister between 1841 and 1847. Sources E. von Conrady, Leben und Wirken des Generals der Infanterie und kommandierenden Generals des V. Armeekorps Carl von Grolman, parts 1–3 (Berlin, 1894–1896). J. von Hartmann, ‘Grolmann: Karl Wilhelm Georg v.’, adb, vol 9 (Leipzig, 1879), 714–716. E. Kessel, ‘Grolman und die Anfänge des Preußischen Generalstabs. Zum 100. Todestag am 15. September 1943’, Militärwissenschaftliche Rundschau 9, 3 (1944), 120–129. ‘Karl Wilhelm Georg von Grolman’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 238–247. H. Kraft, ‘Grolman, Karl von’, ndb, vol. 7 (Berlin, 1966), 123–125.

Karl Georg Albrecht Ernst von Hake (8th August 1768–19th May 1835)

From 1780 he was page at the court of Frederick the Great, and from 1785 ensign in the Guard Regiment. Three years later he was promoted to 2nd Lieutenant. Transferred to the General Staff in February 1793, he received Pour le Mérite after the Battle of Pirmasens. In 1797 he was recommended by his chief, the Lieutenant General Levin von Geusau (1734–1808), due to his ‘diligence, skill and application’ and promoted to captain. From 1799 he was adjutant to Field

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Marshal Wichard von Möllendorff, and from 1804 to Prince Henry (1726–1802). On the 1st of May 1809 he became director of the 1st Division of the Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement in Grolman’s place. Next year he exchanged this activity as the head of the Military Economics Department and took over the business of the Director of akd, which Scharnhorst had given up in June 1810. Scharnhorst was still the king’s trusted advisor and a lack of trust prompted him on the 4th of May 1812 to ask that Friedrich Wilhelm iii be removed from his post. The king rejected the request and instead promoted him to Major General. Due to Scharnhorst’s complete engagement in the conduct of war, Hake was left with the difficult task of mobilization and war preparations. In August 1813 he was replaced by Hermann von Boyen and became a Prussian plenipotentiary at the headquarters of the Allied Commander-in-Chief Prince Karl von Schwarzenberg (1771–1820). In 1815 he was appointed commander of the 13th Brigade of the iv Army Corps of Friedrich Wilhelm von Bülow. He took part in the Battle of Waterloo, then took over the Longwy blockade, and on the the 30th of June 1815 became Commanding officer of the North German Federal Corps, which was assigned the task of conquering the Sedan, Mezieres, and Montmédy fortresses. He overcame difficulties caused by the composition of his troop from various contingents and by the inadequate equipment of siege material, and forced Mezieres on the 10th, Sedan on August 20th, and Montmédy on September 19th to hand over control. After the war he was given command of the Brigade in Gdańsk, then in Glogau. On the 20th of May 1816 he replaced Gneisenau in Generalkommando in Rhineland. From the 26th of December 1819 he became minister of war and one of the king’s most trusted advisors. During his last years in the Ministry he suffered health problems and was often absent. Hake finally left the Ministry of War in 1833 and died two years later in Naples. Sources B. von Poten, ‘Hake: Karl Georg Albrecht Ernst v.’, adb, vol 10 (Leipzig, 1879), 394–396. ‘Albrecht Georg Ernst Karl von Hake’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 3 (Hamburg, 1937), 376–382.

Johann Friedrich Constantin von Lossau (23rd July 1767–16th February 1848)

Son of Prussian general Matthias Ludwig von Lossow (1717–1783). He began his career in the Prussian army in 1781 as Corporal in the Infantry Regiment ‘von Woldeck’, then from the 6th of July 1787 in Infantry Regiment ‘von Wendessen’.

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A year later he was promoted to 2nd Lt, then in 1788 was transferred to Fusilier Battalion ‘von Stutterheim’ of the East Prussian Fusilier Brigade as Lt. From 1799 he served in the General Staff in the rank of Captain. As a Major, he took part in the Battle of Auerstedt in 1806. In May 1807 he was in the General Staff of the Blücher’s corps. From December 1809 he served under the command of General Julius von Grawert (1746–1821). He took part in the campaign of 1812, for which he received the orders of the Legion of Honor and Pour le Mérite. In 1813 he was briefly commandant of Graudenz, then between 1813 and 1815 commander of the brigade in the iv and ii Army Corps. On August 1814 being promoted to Major General he was awarded the Iron Cross 2nd Class and the Order of Saint Vladimir iii for his participation in the battle for Magdeburg. After the war, from October 1815 to September 1818 he was commander of a brigade in the Prussian Occupation Corps in France and then commander of the 15th Division. On the 22nd of February 1820 he was appointed commandant of Graudenz, and promoted to Lieutenant General on the 30th of March 1824. From the 18th of June 1825 he was appointed commander of the 2nd Division and commandant of Gdańsk. He ended his duty in on the 30th of March 1831. Lossau left active service in 1833 as commandant of Danzig. After his departure, the king honored him on the 21st of December 1836 with the Red Eagle Order 1st Class with oak leaves, and on the 3rd of January 1848 by promotion to the rank of General of the Infantry. Sources ‘Johann Friedrich Konstantin von Lossau ’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 184–187. B. von Poten, ‘Lossau: Johann Friedrich Constantin v.’, adb, vol. 19 (Leipzig, 1884), 216.

Duke Charles of Mecklenburg-Strelitz respectably Karl Friedrich August, Herzog zu Mecklenburg (30th November 1785–21st September 1837)

Son of Charles ii, Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz (1741–1816), he was the younger stepbrother of Prussian Queen Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz (1776– 1810). Appointed as a staff Captain to the Prussian army in 1799, he was educated under Gerhard von Scharnhorst’s direction. In 1805 he became company chief in the 1st Prussian Guard Regiment. He participated in the Battle of Auerstedt. During post-war reorganization of the army he served in the Guard Regiment and then in 1811 became Brigadier of the Lower Silesian Infantry

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­ rigade. From 1812 as Colonel he took part in the campaign of 1813, initially as B a member of Gebhard von Blücher’s headquarter. He received command of the 2nd Brigade in General Johann Ludwig von Yorck’s Army Corps. He took part in the Battle of Katzbach on the 26th of August 1813. For his bravery in the Battle of Wartenburg he received the Pour le Mérite with oak leaves on the 9th of October 1813. He was made Knight of the Order of the Black Eagle on the 20th of July 1810. For his action in the Battle of Goldberg-Niederau he was awarded the Iron Cross 1st Class on the 31st of August 1813. He took part in the Battle of Leipzig. On the 16th of October 1813, Duke Charles and many officers were wounded and his brigade suffered massive losses. On the 8th of December 1813 he was promoted Major General and on the 20th of September 1814 appointed commander of the Guard Brigade, which he led to Paris in 1815 without taking part in the fight. On the 2nd of December 1816 he became Commander of the Guard and Grenadiers Corps, a position that he held until his death in Berlin. He was leader of the conservative and absolutist-aristocratic faction in both the Prussian army and the state. From 1817 a member, and since 1827 President of the State Council, he held the authority to attend meetings of the State Ministry; he remained close to King Frederick William iii, his brother-in-law. Sources B. von Poten, ‘Karl Friedrich August, Herzog von Mecklenburg-Strelitz’, adb, vol. 15 (Leipzig, 1882), 310–311. ‘Friedrich August Karl Herzog von Mecklenburg-Strelitz’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 144–147.

Friedrich Karl Ferdinand Freiherr von Müffling, called Weiss (12th June 1775–10th January 1851)

Son of Prussian officer Johan Friedrich Wilhelm von Müffling. Along with his brother Wilhelm they were assigned to military service. In 1787 he entered a fusilier battalion, with which he went to Silesia in 1790 and took part in the campaign against France in 1792/94. From 1797 to 1802 he was employed in the trigonometric measurement of Westphalia, then in 1803 as a Lieutenant in Thuringia. Thanks to influential General Ernst von Rüchel (1754–1823) in 1804 together with 28 other officers, he was admitted to the newly formed General Staff. From 1805 as captain he became a member of the Military Society founded by Gerhard von Scharnhorst. From 1805 he served in the staff of Gebhard von Blücher, and a year later he was assigned to the corps of Duke Karl August

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von Sachsen-Weimar-Eisenach, who, in October 1806, was the front guard of the Prussian main forces until Blücher’s surrender at Ratekau. After his release from captivity, he accepted the invitation of the Duke of Weimar and joined his service. Until the Spring of 1813 he worked in civilian positions as a member of the Secret Council and vice president of the General Camera. In April 1813 he returned to Prussian service and was admitted to the General Staff as a Lieutenant Colonel, and in June he was assigned again to the staff of Blücher. Despite the objections of August Neidhardt von Gneisenau, who preferred this position for his friend Carl von Clausewitz, Müffling became a quartermaster of the Army of Silesia in the rank of Colonel. He participated in the campaigns of 1813 and 1814. In December 1813 he was appointed a Major General, and after seizing Paris in June 1814 was awarded the Pour le Mérite with oak leaves. He became the chief of staff of General Mikhail Barclay de Tolly and then was assigned to the Prussian army commander in Rhineland General Friedrich von Kleist-Nollendorf with the task of drawing a map of the province obtained by Prussia. Work was interrupted by Napoleon’s escape from Elba; Müffling took part in planning the first counteractions of allied armies. He was sent to Duke of Wellington’s quarters as a liaison officer and was key in coordinating the actions of both allied armies. After the re-occupation of Paris, he was its Military Governor for over 4 months, and at the beginning of October 1815 he was again assigned to Wellington’s headquarter. He spent the winter with the Duke in Paris. In the spring of 1816 he returned to Koblenz where, together with officers assigned to him, conducted trigonometric works on the Rhine, which became the focus of his interest in the summer months of 1816, 1817, and 1818. He spent the winter of 1816/17 at the Wellington headquarters in Paris. In April 1818 he was promoted to Lieutenant General. From the spring of 1818 he was preparing the Congress in Aachen. In October 1818 he was commissioned with the task of developing a plan to retreat Prussian troops from France and was assigned to Lieutenant General Wieprecht Karl von Zieten commanding the Prussian corps. He was sent to Brussels where, at the turn of 1819, he participated in talks on the principles of operation of the Prussian auxiliary corps in the event of French aggression against the Netherlands. In 1819, he rejected the nomination for the position of Prussian envoy in London. The main field of his activity in the years 1817 to 1820 was the measurement of works on the Rhine. On the 21st of September 1820 he was appointed by the king as head of all topographic and trigonometric works in Kriegsministerium, and then on the 11th of January 1821 he became Chief of the General Staff of the Army. In July 1829, at the request of Tsar Nicholas i, he was sent to Constantinople to persuade the Sultan to make peace with Russia. At the end of that year, he accompanied Prince Albert of Prussia (1809–1872) on a trip to St. Petersburg. From November 1829 he served

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as commander of the vii Army Corps in Münster. As General of the Infantry (on the 30th of March 1832), in November he received an order to take command of the Observation Corps to counteract possible aggression by France. On the 10th of January 1833, the corps was dissolved. Müffling was in command until 1837. In March 1838 he became the successor of Duke Charles von Mecklenburg-Sterlitz as the Governor of Berlin and the President of the Council of State (until 1844). He participated in its final deliberations in April 1847 and retired from active service on the 5th of October 1847 with the promotion to the rank of Field Marshal. He died in Erfurt. Sources Karl Freiherr von Müffling. Offizier-Kartograph-Politkier. Lebenserinnerungen und kleinere Schriften, edited by H.-J. Behr (Cologne-Weimar-Wien, 2003). K. von Müffling, Aus meinem Leben, 1st Ed. (Berlin, 1851); 2nd Ed. (Berlin, 1855). J. Niemayer, ‘Müffling, Karl Freiherr von’, ndb, vol. 18 (Berlin, 1997), 266–267. B. von Poten, ‘Müffling: Friedrich Karl Ferdinand, Freiherr von’, adb, vol. 22 (Leipzig, 1885), 451–454. ‘Philipp Friedrich Karl Ferdinand Freiherr von Müffling gen. Weiß’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 308–322.

Johann Justus Georg Gustav von Rauch (1st April 1774–2nd April 1841)

Son of Prussian engineer and director of Engineering Academy (Ingenieurakademie) in Potsdam Major General Bonaventura von Rauch (1740–1814). In 1788 he initiated two years of education in the Engineering Academy. On the 6th of April 1790 he was promoted to Lieutenant in the Engineering Corps. Until 1796 he took part in topographical and fortification works on the Silesian-Austrian border and in the newly acquired parts of the country. He also participated in the war against the Kościuszko Uprising in 1794. He was appointed adjutant to the influential quartermaster general and chief of the Engineering Corps, Lieutenant General Levon von Geusau. On the 14th of January 1802, he joined the newly formed General Staff as a Quartermaster Lieutenant. From 1803 as Captain in 1805 he was assigned as an auxiliary officer to the king’s adjutant General Colonel Kleist. From the 22nd of October 1805 as Major he participated in the unsuccessful mobilization of 1805 and in the war of 1806. In the spring of 1807 he was sent to the Russian army. After operations near Gdańsk, Rauch became chief of staff for General Ernst von Rüchel, the governor of Königsberg. On the 1st of June 1807 he was awarded the Order Pour le Mérite. Rauch brought

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the king the news of the defeat of the Russian-Prussian coalition army in the Battle of Friedland. After the war he collaborated with General Gerhard von Scharnhorst. He was a member of Scharnhorts’s commission to reorganize the Engineering Corps. On the 12th of February 1809 Rauch became Director of the 2nd Division of the General War Department. In 1810 he was promoted to Lt Colonel. With Scharnhorst’s retirement from active service, on the 16th of March 1812 he became interim commander of the Engineering Corps and on the 14th of August was promoted to Colonel. On the 1st of March 1813 Rauch was nominated to chief of General Staff of the Corps commanded by General Johann Ludwig von Yorck (1759–1830). On the 19th of May 1813 he was awarded the Iron Cross 2nd Class for his participation in the Battle of K ­ önigswartha-Weißig. From thye 19th of July 1813 he was appointed Major General, and two days after Scharnhorst’s death was appointed as Chief of the Engineering Corps. Temporarily chief of General Staff of the Army of Silesia after the return of Gneisenau, at Gebhard von Blücher’s request he remained in his headquarters. He took part in further events of the war, participating especially in the construction of fortifications and other works requiring engineering. When the army arrived on the Rhine, he was entrusted with the post of head of the General War and Military Department, therefore actually the minister of war. After the First Paris Peace, on the 3rd of June 1814, he was appointed Chief of the Engineers and Pioneers Corps and General Inspector of the Fortresses, and a trusted advisor to the king. At the request of Emperor ­Alexander i, he visited fortresses of the Empire in 1822 and in 1825 the Polish fortresses. On the 30th of March 1830 he was promoted to General of the Infantry, and from the 21st of November 1831 he was a member of the State Council. He received the Order of the Black Eagle on the 18th of January 1833. After General Job von Witzleben’s death on the 30th of July 1837, he was appointed minister of war. He retired in early February 1841 and died in Berlin a few months later. Sources ‘Johann Georg Gustav von Rauch’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 201–215. B. von Poten, ‘Rauch: Gustav Johann Georg v.’, adb, vol. 28 (Leipzig, 1888), 388–390.

Johann Jakob Otto August Rühle von Lilienstern (16th April 1780–1st July 1847)

Son of Jakob Friedrich Rühle von Lilienstern (1749–1817), Prussian 2nd Lieutenant in the Infantry Regiment ‘von Thüna’, later owning the estate in Priegnitz

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near Königsberg. In 1793 Rühle came to the Cadette Corps in Berlin and at the end of 1795 he served as Fahnenjunker in the Garde Regiment in Potsdam. From 1801 he was a member of the Military Society founded by Gerhard von Scharnhorst. He studied in the Academy for Officers. In addition to military studies he was involved in mathematics, natural sciences, philosophy, politics, and music. Thanks to his patron Christian von Massenbach (1758–1827) on the 30th of March 1804 he was admitted to the newly organized General Staff. Under Massenbach’s command he took part in the war with France in 1806. After the capitulation of Prenzlau he served at Frederick Louis, Prince of Hohenlohe-­ Ingelfingen’s headquarters, and then retired from active service. He lived in Dresden in 1807 and engaged in literary work. The consequence of the publication of his book about Hohenlohe’s headquarters was the position as tutor of Prince Bernhard, second son of Duke Charles Augustus of Saxony-Weimar. He accepted the offer and on the 3rd of September 1807, was released from the Prussian army as a Major and went into Weimar service. With his pupil, who was a Saxon officer, he took part in the war against Austria, assigned as the Colonel to the headquarters of Jean Bernadotte (1763–1844). He again described and published his experiences and impressions. Rühle was brought into contact with many important men. On the 24th of February 1813 he returned to the Prussian army and was appointed to Gebhard von Blücher’s headquarters. He took part in the Battle of Leipzig. He was not able to fight in the next campaigns due to health problems. On the 8th of December 1813 he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and on the the 24th of that month, on behalf of his monarch and the two emperors, he was appointed Generalkommissar der deutschen Landesbewaffnung. After the war, he was involved in drawing up drafts for the reorganization of the German army and was present for this purpose in Vienna at the time of the Congress. Once Napoleon returned from Elba he became chief of General Staff to the Military Governor of the Rhine provinces in Aachen. Soon afterwards he was promoted to Colonel. At the end of 1815 he returned to Berlin, where he continued to work in various official positions. First he became chief of the Abteilung für Kriegsgeschichte in the newly established Great General Staff. From January 1820 he was made Major General and from 1821 Chief of the ggs under Lieutenant General Karl von Müffling. In 1835 promoted to Lieutenant General and from 1837 Director of the Allgemeine Kriegsschule, he chaired the study committee. On the 23rd of March 1844, he took over the Generalinspekteur für das Militärerziehungs- und Bildungswesen position at the head of the entire military education system. His talent was utilized during his later stay in Berlin in various commissions for general schooling, the military judiciary, production of railways, in the state council, and more. The University of Kiel recognized his merits in 1839 by

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awarding him a doctorate. He was a collector of coins, a plant scientist, a poet, and a painter. He died in Salzburg during his return journey from Gastein. Sources Johann Jakob Otto August Rühle von Lilienstern’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 389–393. [Gerwien], ‘General-Lieutnant Rühle von Lilienstern. Ein biographisches Denkmal’, Beiheft zum Militair-Wochenblatt, October, November and December (1847), 125–194. B. von Poten, ‘Rühle v. Lilienstern: Johann Jakob Otto August’, adb, vol. 29 (Leipzig, 1889), 611–615.

Georg Wilhelm von Valentini (21st August 1775–6th August 1834)

Son of Prussian Colonel and Commander of the Invalidenhaus in Berlin Georg Heinrich von Valentini (1738–1807). From the 15th of August 1785 he was a cadet in Berlin and on the 31st of July 1791 was appointed Junker in the Jägerregiment. Promoted to 2nd Lieutenant on the 22nd of May 1792 he took part in the First Coalition War. He was wounded during the siege of Landau on the 22nd of December 1793 as also in a battle near Weissenburg. On the 9th of April 1803 Valentini was promoted to Lieutenant, then on the 20th of March 1804 was ­appointed to the reorganized General Staff. In the war of 1806 he took part in the battles of Saalfeld and Jena. Following the retreat to Lübeck, he escaped capture. On March 12th, 1807 he became Captain, then on the 29th of May 1807 he joined Gebhard von Blücher’s Corps. He became a Major on the 23rd of August 1807, and on the 4th of July 1808 he received permission to receive treatment in Carlsbad. On the 26th of December 1808 he was transferred to the staff of Colonel Friedrich Wilhelm von Götzen (1767–1820), after that on the 17th of February 1809 to Lieutenant General Julius von Grawert. On the 13th of June 1809 he entered Austrian service, and took part in the war against Napoleon under the command of the Prince of Orange, the future King of the Netherlands Wilhelm i. He fought in the battles of Aspern and Wagram. After the armistice of Znaim he transferred to Russian service, and took part in campaigns against the Ottoman Empire in 1810. On the 14th of February 1812 Valentini returned to Prussian service and became the youngest Lieutenant Colonel in the General Staff. During the campaign of 1813 in General Johann Ludwig von Yorck’s Army Corps. He took part in the battles of Großgörschen, Bautzen, Katzbach, and Leipzig. He was wounded in the Battle of Mery and was awarded the Russian Order of Saint Anna ii for Bautzen and the Order of Saint Vladimir iii for Katzbach. On the 19th of May 1813 Valentini received the Iron Cross

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2nd Class for Großgörschen and on the 19th of May 1813 the Iron Cross 1st Class for Katzbach. From the 3rd of July 1813 he served as Colonel. On the 14th of August 1813, due to conflict with August von Gneisenau, he transferred to the iii Army Corps as its chief of General Staff. On the 8th of December 1813 he was awarded Pour le Mérite with oak leaves. At the request of Duke Ernest of SaxeCoburg and Gotha (1784–1844), on the 22nd of December 1813, he joined the general staff of his corps, but five days later was transferred back to Yorck’s headquarters. From the 30th of March 1814 he served as Major General and on the 5th of October 1814 was appointed chief of General Staff of the iii Army Corps under Friedrich Wilhelm von Bülow. On the 23rd of March 1815 he was transferred to the iv Army Corps, also under Bülow, as chief of General Staff and took part in the Battle of Waterloo. Gneisenau blamed him for the fact that Bülow’s corps did not arrive at Ligny on time. After the war he became commandant of Glogau and was promoted to Lieutenant General in 1824. In 1828 he was appointed General Inspector of Military Education and Training. He died in Berlin. Sources B. von Poten, ‘Valentini: Georg Wilhelm Freiherr v.’, adb, vol. 39 (Leipzig, 1895), 465–468. ‘Georg Wilhelm von Valentini’, K. von Priesdorff, Soldatisches Führertum, vol. 4 (Hamburg, 1937), 137. R. Poll, Georg Wilhelm von Valentini: 1775–1834: ein preussischer General, Militärschriftsteller und Diplomat, PhD thesis, Westfalischen Wilhelm-­ ­ Universität in Münster 1972, Münster, 1972.

Karl Ernst Job Wilhelm von Witzleben (20th July 1783–9th July 1837)

First of seven children of the Prussian Major General Heinrich Günther von Witzleben (1755–1825). On the 1st of March 1799 he was transferred from Leibpage Institut to the 1st Battalion of Leibgarde. From 1802 as 2nd Lieutenant he took part in the Battle of Auerstedt, but without direct engagement in combat. As prisoner of war after capitulation in Erfurt he was dismissed on word of honor, however in the spring of 1807 was sent by Gebhard von Blücher from Pomerania to the king to Memel. Here he was promoted to Lt on September the 4th, 1807, and soon after was given command of a company in the newly established Guard Battalion. As a renowned specialist in light infantry tactics, on the 25th of March 1809 he was transferred to the Gardejägerbataillon as Captain. From then he was rapidly promoted; in 1811 he became a company

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commander, and in 1812 promoted to Major. In 1813 he went to war with the battalion and took part in the Battle of Großgörschen and was awarded the Iron Cross 2nd Class. During the armistice, he was appointed commander of the Fusilier Battalion in the newly established 2nd Guard Regiment. In ­November, during the march from the Leipzig battlefield to the Rhine, he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. From the 14th of December 1813 he commanded the Gardejägerbataillon. In the campaign of 1814, he took part in the Battle of Paris and was awarded the Iron Cross 1st Class. After the campaign of 1815, he was promoted to Colonel on the 31th of May, and participated as chief of General Staff of the Combined North German Army Corps under General Graf Kleist von Nollendorf in sieges of Sedan, Mezières, and Montmédy. He also administered the Ardennes Department. On the 28th of December 1815 he was appointed chief of General Staff of the General Command in Prussia under General Count Bülow von Dennewitz, but remained in Berlin to complete the organization of the Jäger- und Schützenkorps. On the 7th of October 1816 he returned to the Ministry of War and from the 27th of October 1817 as chief of the King’s Military Cabinet. This position meant that he was in daily contact with King Friedrich Wilhelm iii, whom he accompanied on visits and military exercises, from which a close relationship developed between them. On the 5th of June 1818 he became Major General and Adjutant General. Promoted to Lieutenant General on the 31st of March 1831, from the 30th of October 1833 he took over interim command of the Ministry of War. On the 25th of April 1834 he was appointed minister of war. His health, unwell since 1829, forced him to remove himself from active service, an application that was approved on the 19th of March 1837, although the king hoped that his health and activities could be restored. Witzleben died in Berlin. Sources W. Dorow, Job von Witzleben, Königlich Preußischer Kriegsminister, GeneralLieutnant und General-Adjutant Se. Majestät des Königs. Mittheilungen desselben und seiner Freunde zur Beurteilung Preußischer Zustände und wichtiger Zeitfragen (Leipzig, 1842). B. von Poten, ‘Witzleben: Karl Ernst Job (Hiob) Wilhelm von’, adb, vol. 43 (Leipzig, 1898), 675–677.

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Dictionaries and Lexicons

Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot, vol. 1–56, 1876–1912. Frobenius, Herman, Militär-lexikon: handwörterbuch der militärwissenschaften, Berlin: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1901. Handbuch für Heer und Flotte, Enzyklopädie der Kriegswissenschaften und verwandter Gebiete, edited by Hans von Alberi, vol. 5, Leizpig: Bong, 1913. Handwörterbuch der Gesamten Militärwissenschaften, edited by Bernhard von Poten, vol. 6–7, Bielefeld und Leipzig: Velhagen & Klasing, 1878–1879. Meyers Konversations-Lexikon, 1st Ed., vol. 19, part 1, Amsterdam-Paris, Philadelphia: Verlag des Bibliographischen Instituts, 1851. Meyers Konversations-Lexikon, 2nd Ed., vol. 10, Hildburghausen: Verlag des Bibliographischen Instituts, 1865. Meyers Konversations-Lexikon, 4th Ed., vol. 10, Leipzig: Verlag des Bibliographischen Instituts 1888–1890. Neue Deutsche Biographie, Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot: Berlin, vol. 1–27, 1953–2020.

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Subject Index Allgemeine Kriegsschule, aks 108, 163–164, 171, 176–178, 321, 339, 405, 427, 429, 460a–462a, 471a army corps i Army Corps 109, 144, 279 ii Army Corps 109, 157, 200, 274–275, 277–279, 455a–457a, 460a, 462a–464a, 466a iii Army Corps 109, 167, 274–275, 277–278, 283, 405, 459a, 473a iv Army Corps 109, 269, 274–275, 277–278, 283, 405, 465a–466a v Army Corps 109, 274–275, 464a vi Army Corps 109, 116, 124, 127n5, 128, 154, 265–266, 274–275, 300 vii Army Corps 15, 109, 250, 279, 463a, 469a viii Army Corps 109, 250, 279, 458a organization and structure 101–103, 109, 113, 116, 118–120, 126, 142, 149, 152n7, 153, 165, 167, 230, 242, 265–266, 397, 451 Army Corps in France 100–101 art of war 3–6, 9, 32–41, 114, 126, 130, 147–148, 159, 161–163, 169, 173, 175, 177–178, 185–189, 209, 213, 249, 252–264, 281, 288, 309–310, 317, 320, 323–329, 335–337, 339–342, 345–346, 348, 350–352, 361, 363, 373–377, 380–385, 389–390, 394, 396, 398–399, 407, 410, 418, 422, 426–427, 430, 432–433, 435, 437, 441, 444, 447–448, 453–454 attrition 260, 329, 367 Austrian army 26, 40, 63, 216, 219, 274–276, 281, 393, 395 battle of annihilation (Vernichtungsschlacht) 355 Battle of Aspern (1809) 472 Battle of Auerstedt (1806) 46, 456, 459a, 466a Battle of Austerlitz (1805) 361, 443 Battle of Bautzen (1813) 455a, 462a, 472a Battle of Borodino (1812) 260 Battle of Champaubert (1814) 456a Battle of Dennewitz (1813) 457a, 459a

Battle of Dresden (1813) 456a, 462a Battle of Etoges (1814) 461a Battle of Fehrbellin (1675) 3 Battle of Ferte (1814) 461a Battle of Friedland (1807) 470a Battle of Großgörschen (1813) 263, 455a–456a, 459a, 461a–462a, 472a–473a Battle of Heilsberg (1807) 463a Battle of Jena (1806) 46, 387, 455a, 457a, 461a, 462a Battle of Kaiserslautern (1793) 457a Battle of Katzbach (1813) 467a, 472a Battle of Kiev (1941) 3 Battle of Königgrätz (1866) 131 Battle of Königswartha-Weisig (1813) 470a Battle of Kulm (1813) 456a, 462a, 464a Battle of Laon (1814) 253 Battle of Leipzig (1813) 264, 424n1, 455a, 457a, 460a, 462a, 464a, 467a, 471a–474a Battle of Leuthen (1757) 3, 186, 210, 261, 263, 366 Battle of Liegnitz (1760) 367 Battle of Ligny (1815) 161, 260–262, 455a, 461a–462a, 473a Battle of Lodi (1796) 187 Battle of Marengo (1800) 361–362, 443 Battle of Marne (1914) 3 Battle of Mery (1813) 472a Battle of Montmartre (1814) 461a Battle of Navarino (1827) 66n5 Battle of Olszynka Grochowska (1831) 424n2 Battle of Prague (1757) 395 Battle of Preußisch-Eylau (1813) 329, 387, 461a–462a Battle of Rossbach (1757) 261 Battle of Saalfeld (1806) 472a Battlee of Soissons (1814) 461a Battle of Soldau (1806) 463a Battle of Quatre-Bras (1815) 161, 260, 262 Battle of Vauchamps 456a Battle of Wagram (1809) 419, 472 Battle of Wartenburg (1813) 467a Battle of Waterloo (1815) 62, 128, 135, 187, 210, 253, 260–262, 329, 356, 455a, 461–462a, 465a, 473a

511

Subject Index Battle of Wavre (1815) 262 Battle of Xions (Książ Wielkopolski) 460a Bewegungskrieg, manoeuvre warfare 3, 186, 192, 197, 203–208, 213, 218–219, 222–223, 230–231, 248–250, 260–261, 264, 275, 277, 280, 285, 287–288, 291, 297, 332, 347–349, 361, 361–367, 370–371, 384–386, 390, 394–395, 441, 443, 453 Carlsbad Decrees 57, 65, 85, 472a Congress of Aachen 60–65, 107, 129, 216, 220 Congress of Ljubljana 64 Congress of Opava 64 Congress of Vienna 46–47, 51–52, 74, 198, 240, 250 Congress of Verona 64 defence planning 8, 24, 26, 42, 99, 131–137, 139, 143–147, 156–158, 180–181, 190, 202, 205, 215, 224, 231, 254, 265, 274, 289, 297, 302, 305, 331, 362, 367, 391, 414, 423, 450–451, 453–454 defence system 59, 62, 124, 136, 140–141, 184n6, 187, 189–201, 204–207, 210–219, 223–232, 240, 248, 268–270, 272–275, 281–282, 284, 291, 293–297, 302, 359, 386–388, 418, 439, 451 Denkwürdigkeiten für die Kriegskunst und Kriegsgeschichte 161, 450 Engineers and Pioneers Corps 23–24, 70, 80–81, 97–98, 112, 135, 137, 139–140, 146, 156, 171, 180n1, 201, 207, 235, 245, 451, 456a, 470a external lines 364, 393–396 Federal army, Bundesheer 56–59, 203, 214–215, 217, 219, 455a fortifications 8n1, 10, 13–14, 16–18, 21, 24, 33–35, 46–48, 52, 56–59, 61–63, 74, 97–98, 106, 121, 124–125, 135–140, 147, 150–151, 160, 165, 173–177, 183, 185, 189–190, 193–197, 199–209, 211–225, 227–229, 231–238, 240–246, 248, 253, 258, 263, 266–278, 280–286, 289, 291–296, 299–301, 323, 326, 330–331, 343–344, 352–360, 362–364, 367–370, 374, 386–389, 392–393, 396, 405,

415–419, 438–442, 444–446, 451–453, 455a, 459a, 463a, 465a, 469a–470a French army 13, 59, 61–62, 75n5, 200, 216, 219, 222, 250, 279n2, 360, 424n4 General Inspector of Military Education and Training, General-Inspekteur des Militär-Erziehungs- und Bildungswesens 176–177, 377, 430, 473a General Inspector of the Artillery 78, 86, 120, 456a–457a General Staff (gs), Generalstab as institution 10–11, 13–19, 21–22, 25, 27, 79–80, 94–98, 110–126, 130–167, 177, 180, 196–197, 200–201, 207, 210, 250–253, 255, 257, 264–270, 273–274, 280–282, 288–290, 295, 300–304, 307, 337, 342–343, 353–354, 373–374, 377, 384, 404–405, 414, 418, 425–426, 430, 434, 437, 451, 455a, 458a–464a, 466–474a Grosser Generalstab (ggs), Great General Staff 10–13, 16n5, 17–19, 28n3, 29–30, 110, 112n4, 113–117, 119, 122–123, 134–136, 146, 149–152, 155, 158, 164–165, 167, 200, 207, 253, 265, 268, 273, 295, 304n3, 307, 337, 343, 354, 434, 460a, 471a in historiography 1, 3, 11, 17–19, 24, 25, 27–32, 108, 111–112, 123, 127 Kriegstheaters 13–14, 113, 116–117, 119, 132–134, 137, 149–151, 153–155, 158, 200, 210, 212, 235, 237, 268–273, 278, 281, 289, 307, 353, 460a Measurements Bureau 133, 159, 209 Military History Department/Section, Abteilung/Sektion für Kriegsgeschichte 13, 22–24, 133–134, 149, 162, 164–165 Topographical Bureau 462a Truppengeneralstab (tgs), Troops General Staff 110–119, 122, 142, 144–146, 148n6, 150n3, 152–153, 155–157, 165, 175, 200, 207–214, 269–270, 455a, 458a–460a, 462a–463a, 470a–471a Generalkommando, General Command in Brandenburg/Neumark 72, 100, 102 in Pomerania 72, 100, 102 in Posen 71–72, 100–101, 124, 237 in Prussia 17, 72, 100, 105–106, 117, 141–145, 225, 236–242, 458a, 474a

512 Generalkommando (cont.) in Rhineland 62, 100–101, 103, 106, 112, 120n3, 139, 143–145, 205–213, 250, 405, 407, 462a, 465a in Saxony 100, 125 in Silesia 72, 103–104, 237, 266, 462a in Westphalia 100–101, 138–139 organization and structure 10–12, 18–19, 71–72, 84, 99–102, 106, 109, 113, 115–116, 124, 126–127, 134, 137, 140–147, 151, 157, 160, 205–213, 225, 237, 250, 276, 302, 451 Generalstabsreisen 14n6, 16, 26–27, 150–153, 198, 265 German Confederation, Deutscher Bund 8n1, 47–52, 54–59, 62, 64n4, 65–66, 68, 155, 199, 214–215, 217–219, 223–224, 250, 270, 295, 297, 449, 452 Guard and Grenadiers Corps 278, 283 internal lines 364, 393–398, 444 Immediatvortragsrecht 95, 100, 111, 123 King’s Military Cabinet, 3rd Department of War Ministry 10, 12–13, 24, 27, 30, 55, 96, 121–122, 127–129, 158, 474a Kommendierender General (kg), Commanding General 72–73, 81, 98–104, 106, 108–109, 115, 120n2, 121, 125–127, 137–138, 140–147, 150–151, 157, 180, 207, 236–238, 266, 276, 302, 457a–458a, 464a Kriegsministerium, Ministry of War 1st Department 95, 98 2nd Department 13, 79, 95–97, 110, 114–116, 120, 122, 132–135, 140, 145–147, 161, 180–182, 194, 196–197, 213, 228, 235, 464a 3nd Department, see King’s Military Cabinet 4th Department 96 5th Department 96 Department of Military Economics, Militärökonomiedepartement, (möd) 94, 96, 122 General Department of War, Allgemeines Kriegsdepartement (akd) 19, 94–97, 122, 465a organization and status 10–13, 18–19, 21, 24, 27, 55, 79, 96–101, 107–112, 119–122,

Subject Index 132, 137–140, 142, 146, 156, 180, 207, 210, 250, 256, 451, 459a–461a, 463a, 465a, 474a Landsturm 82, 134–135, 214–215, 225, 233, 237, 241, 286, 308, 323, 386–387, 443 Landwehr 1, 23, 32, 73, 75, 79, 81–91, 94, 100, 103–105, 115, 117, 121, 135, 141, 146, 184, 195, 201, 205, 210n6, 212, 221, 235, 237–238, 241, 266, 274, 277–279, 286, 291, 297, 322–323, 405, 436–437, 443, 459a Long term, longue durée 3 manoeuvres 11, 13, 16–17, 39, 118n4, 126–129, 148n5, 151–152 Militair-Wochenblatt (mwb) 4, 13, 16–17, 108, 159, 166–170, 172–174, 251n1, 254, 256, 307, 317–319, 342, 349n1, 357, 374, 425, 450 Militair-Litteratur-Zeitung (mlz) 170–173, 175–176, 261, 337, 372, 375, 382, 407–408, 423, 425, 427–429, 431, 436, 450 Militairische Blätter (mb) 172–172, 450 military culture (term) 38–39, 450 military doctrine 7, 13, 22, 25, 127, 156, 180, 205, 281, 304, 451 military literature (term) 3–4, 25, 30, 35–38, 41–42, 159, 161, 165, 176, 209, 304, 326, 373, 382–383, 402, 407, 433, 435, 449–452 military thought (term) 5–8, 32, 36–42, 165, 169–172, 184, 254n4, 255, 260, 271, 273, 302, 307, 309–310, 312, 319, 322, 337, 339–340, 343, 345, 348n1, 376–377, 382, 391, 399, 401–408, 422, 425–426, 440, 448–450, 453–454 Ministry of Finance 82, 124 Ministry of Foreign Affairs 133, 151, 154, 450 Napoleonic wars 3n2, 5, 9, 11, 17, 23, 25, 52, 68–69, 95, 146, 159, 161, 164, 180, 194, 208, 238n1, 248, 250, 253, 258–259, 263, 267, 281, 288, 307–308, 332, 337, 344, 348n1, 385, 397, 399, 449, 453, 457a Paris Treaty 267 Partition of Poland 51–52, 71n4, 292 Polish army 1, 76, 232n2, 292, 294, 300, 460a

513

Subject Index reconnaissance 14–16, 96, 133–139, 151–152, 200–204, 226–231, 253, 260–262, 266, 273, 289–290, 295, 334, 353, 365, 372, 397, 415, 445 Russian army 17n1, 52n1, 63, 142, 196, 219, 239, 245, 247, 292–294, 298, 300–301, 381, 462a, 469a Russo-Turkish War 68, 129, 155, 298–301, 381 Schlieffen Plan 2, 22 Silesian Wars 11, 21 small war 191–197, 226–227, 235, 248, 274, 291, 334–337, 341n3, 371–376, 380, 389–390, 396–399, 425, 427–428, 440, 452–453 strategy (term) 7, 24–25, 32–35, 40–42, 132, 140, 153, 156–158, 162–164, 171, 173–178, 180–181, 185–186, 188–190, 201, 210, 237–238, 249, 253, 258, 267, 281–282, 287–288, 305, 309, 313, 319–320, 326–328, 333, 341, 345–347, 348–354, 359–360, 364, 366–367, 373–374, 382, 389, 399, 408–409, 411–412, 418, 428–429, 431–432, 434, 444, 446–448, 451–454

Stützpunkte 134, 192, 223, 269, 289, 291, 416, 438–439 Subjekt 330, 360, 362–364, 453 tactics 23, 32–35, 41, 126, 143, 164, 166, 173–174, 176, 185, 187–189, 206, 210, 220, 242, 258, 262–263, 309, 318–319, 326–328, 331, 333, 344, 346–352, 360, 366–367, 375, 382, 389, 392, 402–403, 415, 418, 427, 434, 473a Unification Wars 1–3, 24 Übungsreisen 16–17, 27, 126, 152–153 war of annihilation 422 Wars of Liberation 1813–1815 2, 3, 9, 24, 27, 46, 80–81, 84, 176, 375 Wars of 1864–1871, see Unification Wars World War i 1, 21, 25, 39 World War ii 1, 18, 20, 28, 376, 402 Zeitschrift für Kunst, Wissenschaft, und Geschichte des Krieges (zkwg)  174–176, 313, 304n3, 338, 344, 355, 426, 450

Personal index Albert, Prince of Prussia 468a Alexander, the Great 331, 346, 444 Alexander I, Tsar 51–53, 56, 64–67, 71, 74, 155, 198, 227, 240, 432, 470a Angelow, Jürgen 48n3, 48n7, 48n8, 49n2, 57n3, 58n2, 64n4 Arnauld von, Maj 133 Aquinas, Thomas 434 Askenazy, Szymon 424 Aster, Ernst Ludwig von biography 77, 455a–456a on fortifications 139, 200, 204, 206–207 Auer, Ludwig von 15, 138, 138n3, 144, 233n4 Augustus, Prince 23, 78, 85–87, 98, 126n1, 128–129, 166–167, 184n6, 295, 456a–457a Bachofen (Prussian officer) 166 Bahn, Rudolf 378n1 Balzac, Honoré de 36 Barclay de Tolly, Mikhail 464a, 468a Baumgart, Peter 184n1 Behr, Hans-Joachim 107n2, 123n5, 156n2, 469a Bellinger, Vanya Eftimova 8–9 Berenhorst, Georg von in historiography 5–6, 175, 310, 312n2 military theory 255, 309–310, 370, 380–381, 383–384, 397, 399, 412, 437–438, 441 opinion about Lossau 401–402, 405–407 relations with Valentini 375, 377–378, 380–381, 399, 401–402, 406–407 Bergen, Karl Ludwig von 257 Bernadotte, Jean 471a Betley, J.A. 17n1 Beyme, Carl Friedrich von 65, 85 Billinger, Robert D. Jr 8n1 Bismarck, Friedrich Wilhelm von 172n2, 372–373, 408n3 Blesson, Ludwig 169, 171–172, 175, 428 Bloch, Czesław 53n2, 68n2, 155n2, 226n2, 226n4, 226n5, 227n6, 292n2 Blücher, Gebhard von 1, 60, 105, 131, 251–253, 255, 263, 379, 404, 406, 441, 457–458, 464, 466–468, 470–473

Boetticher, Friedrich von 27n1 Bonaparte, Napoleon, see Napoleon I, Emperor of the French Bonin, Udo von 23–24, 97, 135–136, 195, 200, 201n4, 201n6, 202n2, 202n4, 202n7, 203n1, 203n2, 203n5, 203n8, 224n2, 231n2, 235n11, 236n3, 236n11 Borstell, Hans Friedrich Heinrich von 457a Borstell, Ludwig von 84, 100, 105–107, 109, 126, 128, 137–138, 141–144, 233n4, 236–237, 238–242, 246, 250, 457–458a Botti, Ferruccio 7n1 Boyen, Ernst Johann Sigismund von 458a Boyen the Elder, Hermann von as minister of war 20–21, 55–56, 65, 71–72, 75–77, 80, 81–85, 88, 94–108, 110, 122, 128, 134–147, 149n1, 159–160, 162–164, 178, 198–205, 198–205, 208, 215–216, 218, 220–224, 226–229, 234–246, 464a–465a biography 53, 77, 84–85, 460a–461a comparison to Clausewitz 185–186, 188, 198, 208, 213–215, 248, 258, 297, 337 in historiography 18, 31n5, 79, 88–89, 96–99, 108, 183–185, 191, 220–221, 241, 294n8, 375n5, 448 military writings 14n2, 17, 20, 183–197, 198–205, 220–224, 292–294 on defence planning and defence system 53, 55–56, 59, 63, 134–144, 178, 188–190, 193–195, 198–205, 207, 215–216, 220–224, 226–229, 235–237, 242, 246, 248–249, 266, 274, 276, 291–294, 297, 388–389 on fortress and fortifications 194–195, 198–205, 220–224, 228–229, 235–237, 242, 274, 276, 292–294 on international policy 55–56, 63, 215 on Landwehr 31n5, 71, 81–86, 88–89, 191–192, 195, 235–236, 322–323, 387 on Napoleon 186–188 on Poland 53, 55–56, 70–72, 75–76, 226–227 on small war 191–192, 274, 446 on strategy and defence system 188–190

Personal index papers 12n2, 15, 18, 135–146, 183–207, 220–226, 237–243, 292–294, 375n5 politics within German Confederation 55–57, 59, 85, 215 relations with Clausewitz 106, 163–164, 213–215, 224, 248–249 relations with commanders 81–84, 86, 98–108, 137–138, 141–146, 205–207, 213–214, 224–226, 234–243, 246, 322–323, 337, 387–389, 465a relations with Grolman 65, 77, 79, 85, 96, 136–138, 178, 180–181, 183, 190–192, 194–197, 213–214, 226–229, 232, 233n4, 235–237, 246, 248–249, 258, 266, 322, 337, 387–389, 464a Boyen, Johann Friedrich von 458a Böckmann, Hebert von 4n3, 5n3, 26–27, 152, 181, 184n2, 192n5, 253, 265, 281, 289, 309, 375n4, 376 Brack, F. de 340n1 Brandenburg-Schwedt, Anna Elisabeth Luise von 456a Brandenstein, Friedrich von 139, 139n2, 155, 200, 270 Brandt, Heinrich August von biography 153–155, 177, 429–432, 460a–461a descent 424, 429 in historiography 4, 319, 424–430 memoires 79n4, 80, 128n6, 153–154, 177, 275n1, 381n, 427, 428–432 military career 152–155, 177, 424–425, 429–432, 460a–461a military theory 162, 172, 432–448 military writings 162, 172, 305, 342, 355, 425–432, 447–448, 453 Müffling’s task 153–155, 274–275, 281, 430 on art of war 432–433 on fortress and fortifications 438–441 on General Staff 437–438 on Decker and Rogniat 162, 342, 355, 429, 432–433, 438–443 on military education 434–435, 437–438 on human aspects of warfare  435–437 on Napoleon 435–437, 442–443 on operations 443–445

515 on people’s war 445–447 on strategy 433–434 relations to Poland 424–425, 430 relations with Valentini 375, 429–430, 438, 440, 444 Braudel, Fernand 3 Brause, Friedrich August von 114–115, 126n1 Bremm, Klaus-Jürgen 125n1, 135n1, 146, 190n7, 212n2, 220, 267n3, 289 Bronsart von Schellendorf, Paul 111 Brose, Eric Dorn 67n4, 77–79, 81na, 125n3, 129, 183n2, 377n2 Brühl, Reinhard 20n4, 22n1, 22n3, 22n4, 23n3, 24n6, 24n9, 25n1 Brüning, Günter 41n1, 319–324, 329, 331, 333, 343n5 Bucholz, Arden 1n4, 2n2, 3, 25n1, 30n3, 30n5, 30n6, 146 Burg, Peter 48n3, 48n6, 49n4, 49n5, 52n2, 54n1 Bülow, Adam Heinrich Dietrich von 5, 163, 271, 271n2, 327–328, 345, 348, 359, 362–366, 374, 376, 378, 389–390, 392, 394, 411n6, 418–419, 422, 429, 434, 441, 444 Bülow, Eduard von 375n2 Bülow, Hans von 82, 124 Bülow von Dennewitz, Friedrich 73n1, 81, 98, 104, 375, 457a, 459a, 465a, 473a Büsch, Otto 46n3, 51n5, 81n3 Caemmerer, Rudolf von 5, 7, 309, 376, 396n1 Caesar, Julius Gaius 191, 328, 443 Canitz, Maj 235 Carrias, Eugene 7, 376n5, 402 Castlereagh Lord, see Stewart Robert Charles, Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz 80– 84, 102, 125–126, 128, 177, 466a–469a Charles ii, Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz 466a Charles x, King of France 295n1 Charles xii, King of Sweden 195, 432 Charles Augustus, Duke of Saxony-WeimarEisenach 455a, 468a, 471a Charles Habsburg, Archduke 5, 163, 256, 310–311, 331, 348, 376, 382n6, 383–384, 391, 399, 443, 452, 454 Chłapowski, Dezydery 74 Chłopicki, Józef 424

516 Ciriacy Friedrich von, C….y 171, 174, 381n7, 461a Citino, Robert M. 2n2, 3 Clark, Christopher 46n3, 51, 65–66, 70n5 Clausewitz, Carl von as director of aks 163–164, 177 correspondence 9, 26, 40n3, 80, 85n6, 103–104, 106n5, 108, 112, 120n2, 125128n1, 128n6, 128n5, 129n7, 134n4, 141, 144–145, 165n8, 207–214, 274–288, 382n1, 382n5, 456a, 462a in historiography 2, 4–7, 9, 26n5, 36–37, 40n3, 183, 253, 305, 307–313, 334, 340, 375–377, 401–405, 412, 421–423, 426–428, 448–449 military theory 185, 186n7, 188, 207–214, 224, 246–249, 288–289, 321–322, 334, 336–337, 374, 389, 409, 412, 421–423, 453 military writings 9, 15, 24n3, 26, 36–37, 53n1, 207–214, 246–249, 274–289, 294n4, 305, 338–339 on Decker 338–339 on exchange of territories 54 on General Staff 123, 129, 134n4, 144–146, 210, 285, 405n3 on Müffling 112, 120n2, 123, 129, 145, 219, 224 on Müffling’s task 26, 154–155, 253, 274–288 on Valentini 210, 379–382 on war planning 53n1, 106, 134n4, 139, 144–146, 198, 207–214, 246–249, 257–258, 274–289, 294n4, 297, 302, 452 organization of manoeuvres 127–128 relations with Boyen and Grolman 106, 163–164, 213–215, 224, 249 relations with Gneisenau 78, 103, 106, 108, 120n2, 128n6, 129, 139, 144–145, 166n8, 207–214, 468a relations with Hake 103–104, 112, 139, 144, 207–214 relations with Witzleben 24n3, 129 Clausewitz, Marie von 9 Cler, Lt/2nd Lt 273 Cler, Major 290 Cochenhausen, Friedrich von 4n3, 6n1, 253n7, 310–311, 376, 402 Coetzee, Daniel 39

Personal index Colson, Bruno 161n7, 341n4, 342n2, 342n3, 343–344, 346, 348n1, 348n4 Conrady, Emil von 24, 71n3, 82n6, 82n9, 84n7, 85n1, 85n5, 88n1, 97n3, 104n3, 105n8, 106n7, 129n1, 132n2, 135n1, 136n1, 136n4, 190n7, 192n2, 194n4, 196n4, 231n2 Cortés, Hernán 346 Coutau-Bégarie, Herve 7n7, 312–313, 341n4, 345n1, 376n8, 377n1, 403, 428 Cox, Gary P. 48n1, 59n3, 199n3, 199n4, 203n7, 224n1, 250n1, 295n1 Craig, Gordon A. 4n3, 25n1, 30n3, 184n2 Crassus, Marcus 432 Czapliński, Władysław 77n6 Czubaty, Jarosław 52n1 Dankbahr, Friedrich Wilhelm von 289, 291–292 Daun, Leopold von 246 Dąbrowski, Florian 460a Dąbrowski, Jan Henryk 71n4, 75n6 Dąbrowski, Otton 425n2 Decker Carl von as gs officer 159, 327 as lecturer in aks 164, 177 biography 461a–462a definitions of strategy and tactics 348– 353, 359–360, 432–434, 436 in historiography 4, 305, 339–345, 350, 382 military journals 159–160, 166–167, 171–174, 338–339,424–426 military writings 160–162, 175, 327, 338–339, 342–374, 383–385, 387, 388n2, 389–392, 394–396, 417, 425–426, 429, 431n6, 432–434, 436, 438–441, 443, 447, 453 on Bülow 345, 348, 359, 362–366, 374 on Clausewitz 338–339 on fortress and fortifications 354–358, 387–389, 438–441 on Napoleon 351, 360–367, 369–370, 372–374, 395–396, 443 on nature of war 345–348 on Rogniat 327, 341–344, 346–348, 355–362, 374 on small war 327, 371–373, 446 on Valentini 364, 372, 356, 383–385, 386, 388n2, 388–392, 395–396

Personal index on war planning 358–371 on war theaters 353–354 Decker, Friedrich Wilhelm Heinrich von 461a Dehio, Ludwig 8n2, 25–26, 80n5 Delacroix, Victor 47 Delbrück, Hans 22, 24, 25n1, 30, 65n1, 69, 79n9, 89n2, 95n2, 108n3, 128n2, 128n4, 128n6, 252n8, 379n3 Deutsch, Wilhelm 8n1 Diebitsch, Hans Karl von 17n1, 381, 428n4 Diest, Heinrich von 289–290 Dieter, Maj. 266 Dorow, Wilhelm 53n4, 55n4, 83n4, 474a Droysen, Johann G. 375n3, 379n2 Dupuy, Trevor N. 1n4, 4n3, 253 Duvernoy, Max von 21n6 Engelbrecht, Ludwig Philip von 229n4, 236 Ernest, Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha 473a Eugen, Duke of Württemberg 381 Eugen, Prince of Savoy 384 Eysturlid, Lee W. 37 Felden, Wilhelm von 273 Felgermann 23n7, 23n8, 180n2 Ferdinand, Prince of Prussia 456a Fischer, Maj. 289 Fiszer, Stanisław 424 Flotwell, Eduard Heinrich von 74n1, 464a Foley, Robert T. 25n1 Förster, Gerhard 4n3 Frederick, Prussian Prince 106, 126n1 Frederick ii the Great, King of Prussia 1, 21, 24, 25n1, 31, 46, 55, 81, 83, 92–93, 126, 187, 209, 246, 248, 253, 261–262, 282, 365–366, 371, 374, 384–385, 389, 393–394, 406, 410, 432, 435, 437, 456a, 464a Frederick Augustus I, King of Saxony, Duke of Warsaw 52n1, 54 Frederick Louis, Prince of HohenloheIngelfingen 462a, 471a Frederick William, Duke of BrunswickWolfenbüttel 458a, 461a–462a Frederick William, Prince of Hesse 408 Frederick William, Prussian Crown Prince

517 later Frederick William iv, King of Prussia 8n1, 106, 109, 125, 463a Frederick William, The Great Elector 1, 3 Frederick William i, King of Prussia 11 Frederick William iii, King of Prussia 18n6, 46, 51–52, 54–55, 60–61, 65–67, 69, 74–80, 82–85, 87–88, 92–97, 99, 101–111, 115–129, 131, 132, 133–135, 137, 140, 143–144, 147, 155–160, 167–168, 174–176, 180, 183, 200, 207, 220, 228, 231, 235, 240, 251, 255, 288, 298, 404n3, 406, 426, 448, 451, 452, 456a–457a, 459a, 465a–470a, 473a–474a Franz, Wallace P. 274n1, 279n2, 283n1, 288n2 Freytag-Loringhoven, Hugo von 5n3, 309, 396n1 Friccius, Carl 109n1 Freuding, Christian 40n1 Frobenius, Herman 34n3, 97n2, 139–140 Galos, Adam 77n6 Galperin, Peter 58n4, 58n7 Gat, Azar 2n1, 6, 255n6, 311n7, 376n7, 378n1, 404 Geusau, Levin von 464a, 469a Gerlach, Leopold von 196n2, 229n1, 291 Gersdorff, Ursula von 22n3 Gerwien 23n7, 23n8, 108n6, 161n2, 161n5, 307n2, 308n4, 317n1, 319, 336, 341n2, 472a Gex, Nicolas 7n7 Glummer, Capt 73 Gneisenau, August Neidhardt von 18, 23, 27, 60, 62, 78–79, 81, 95, 100–101, 102–104, 106, 108, 112, 120n2, 128, 129n5, 131, 135, 144–145, 148, 180n1, 183, 200, 207, 210–212, 214, 249, 251–253, 257–258, 298, 302, 310, 378–379, 381, 426–427, 430, 452, 459a–460a, 465a, 468a, 470a, 473a Golocher 289 Goltz, Colmar von der 21, 94 Gorszkowsky, C. von 103n1 Görlitz, Walther 4n3, 129n3, 149 Götzen, Friedrich Wilhelm von 470a Gray, Colin S. 40 Grawert, Lt 273 Grawert, Julius von 146, 404, 466a, 472a Griffith, Paddy 36–37, 348n1

518 Groeben, Karl von der 14, 78, 142, 145–146, 155–156, 236n1, 265, 289, 298n4, 301, 462a–463a Groener, Wilhelm 27n1 Grolman, Heinrich Dietrich von 463a Grolman, Karl von as chief of the 2nd Department 53n4, 65, 96–97, 104–106, 108, 132–138, 139n2, 140–142, 146, 149n1, 149n3, 151, 164, 180–181,200–201, 209, 225–226, 229–235, 242, 245–246, 248, 258, 266, 343, 452 biography 128–129, 405n1, 463a–465a in historiography 23, 77, 79, 180–181, 242 on Landwehr 192, 233, 387 on defence planning 108, 132–138, 141–142, 151, 178, 180, 192,196–197, 200–201, 209, 213–214, 224, 226–227, 229–234, 236, 242, 243n2, 245–246, 248, 258, 322, 337, 448 on fortress and fortifications 136–138, 194, 196–197, 209, 213–214, 389 on Poland 53n4, 71, 224, 226, 229–230, 232–233 papers 12n2, 14, 15–16, 136, 180 political views 65, 77, 79, 85–86, 108 relations with Boyen 65, 77, 79, 85, 96–97, 104, 108, 164,178, 180, 183, 190–191, 194, 196–197, 213–214, 224, 226–231, 235, 242, 246, 248, 258, 266, 322, 337, 387, 389, 448 return to service 128–129 Groß, Gerhard P. 27n1, 40n3 Grotius, Hugo 442 Günther, Johann von 458a Habermas, Jürgen 131n1 Hacke, Georg von 114 Hagemann, Ernst 5–7, 255n6, 309–313, 317, 321, 333–336, 378n1, 401–404, 406, 408, 409n3, 411–415, 420–422 Hagen, Ulrike von 39n1 Hahlweg, Werner 15n4, 53n1, 183n4, 211n1, 212n2, 246n2, 381n2 Hake, Karl Ernst, von 12n2, 15, 70, 80, 90, 103–104, 106, 108–109, 112–115, 118–122, 124, 127–129, 137, 139, 142–145, 148n4, 156–158, 167, 174, 180–181, 205–215, 248, 256, 407, 448, 464a–465a

Personal index Haller, Christian 41 Hampe, Karl 62n3, 62n6, 63n1, 63n3 Handel, Michael I. 274n1 Hannibal, Barkas 346, 361 Hardenberg, Karl von 55, 60, 61n3, 65–66, 72, 77, 86, 95, 104, 108n1, 140, 183, 227, 251 Hartmann, Stefan 135n1, 231n2, 233n3, 239n4, 242 Hassel, Paul 176n4 Hedwig Sophie, born von Holtzendorff 458a Henckel von Donnersmarck, Wilhelm 114–115 Hénin, Pierre-Yves 7n7 Henry, Prince of Prussia 465a Herklots, Karl Alexander von 92 Heuser, Beatrice 6, 6n3, 40, 170n1, 311–312, 321, 329, 335n3, 335n7, 337n1, 337n2, 377n1, 404, 409–410, 412n8, 421n3 Heuser, Wolfgang 250n1 Heymann, Maj 289 Hiller von Gaertringen, Johann 114 Hindenburg, Paul von 27n1 Hitler, Adolf 31n6 Hofschröer, Peter 77n1, 105n6 Holborn, Hajo 2n2 Holden Reid, Brian 37 Holdergger, War Commissioner 73 Holtzendorff, Karl Friedrich von 176 Hoppe, Marie-Nicolette 304 Horn, Heinrich von 109 Hoyer, Johann G. von 254n4, 305n1, 319n3, 341n2, 342n10, 344, 382n8, 407, 431n5 Höhn, Reinhard 31n6, 81n4 Huber, Ernst Rudolf 31n6, 50n2 Hugo, Victor 36 Humboldt, Wilhelm von 31, 55, 65, 85, 463 Huntington, Samuel P. 38 Huttel, Rittmeister 273 Hünerbein, Friedrich von 100, 145 Iggers, Georg 31n2 Ingersleben, Charlotte von 457a Ingersleben, Johann Ludwig von 457a Ismay, Talbot C. 64n4 Jagow, Gottlieb von 125 Jalonen, Jussi 17n1 Janowitz, Morris 38

519

Personal index Jany, Curt 4n3, 10–12, 24–26, 82n2, 88n6, 89n4, 90n6, 94, 97n2, 98n2, 101–102, 114n1, 122n3, 126n5, 149n1 Jähns, Max 35–36, 111, 152n2, 159–160, 166–167, 169, 172n2, 375–376, 381n1, 456a, 459a Jomini Antoine-Henri de in historiography 5, 7, 36–37, 310–313, 376, 393, 427–429 in Prussia 163, 169–170, 175, 256, 287, 313, 364, 393–396, 399, 427–428, 437, 440, 443–444, 453–454 military theory 287, 364, 393–396, 439–440, 453–454 Julian, the Apostate 432 Kagan, Frederick W. 64n4 Kant, Immanuel 255, 308–309, 314, 320–321, 336 Kessel, Eberhard 28, 190n7, 192n2, 192n7, 235n10, 339–340, 345, 373, 378n1, 452, 464a Keul, Wolfgang 59n1 Kienmayer, Michael von 463a Kier, Elizabeth 39 Kissinger, Henry 46–52, 62n1, 64–65 Kitchen, Martin 4n3, 184n2 Kleist, Capt. 273 Kleist von Nollendorf, Friedrich 81–82, 100, 103–104, 109, 455a, 464a, 468a–469a, 474a Kluckhohn, Clyde 39 Klüx, Ernst von 462a Knesebeck, Karl Friedrich von 80, 180n1, 220, 223, 452 Kocój, Henryk 425n2 Koehler, Benedikt 316n9 Koehler, Gertrud 79n8, 313–316 Konopczyńska, Małgorzata 93–94 Konstantin, Russian Grand Duke 68, 155, 292n2, 424n2 Korta Wacław 77n6 Kosiński-Rawicz, Antoni Amilkar 75–76 Kościuszko, Tadeusz 71n4, 424n4, 458a, 469a Kotzebue, August von 65 Köhn von Jaski, Andreas 96 Kraehe, Edmund A. 55–56, 64n6 Krauseneck, Wilhelm von 12n2, 23, 79, 129, 149n1

Kroener Bernard R. 184n1 Kuhle, Arthur 37n3, 186n7, 187n5, 271n2, 327n3, 328n2, 330n1, 359n2 Kunisch, Johannes 58n3, 312n5 Kusserow, Ferdinand von 269 Kutuzov, Mikhail 443 L’Estocq, Anton Wilhelm von  463a Lange, Lt 289 Lange, Sven 20n4, 24n6, 24n7, 25n1, 30 Langendorf, Jean-Jacques 7n7, 80n2, 170n1, 308n1, 308n3, 312–313, 315–317, 320, 322–323, 341n4, 343, 345, 347n3, 350, 359n3, 364n5, 376n7, 376n8, 389, 393, 395, 402–403, 405–409, 412, 413n1, 414n3, 421n3, 423n1, 428–429 Laubert, Manfred 53n2, 71n7, 72n5, 73n1, 74–76 Lehmann, Max 82–83, 86n1, 308n2, 318 Leslie, Robert Frank 17n1 Liebenroth, Karl von 138, 233n4 Lloyd, Henry 336 Lossau, Johann Constantin von biography 404–409, 465a–466a comparison to Clausewitz 409, 412, 421–423 genius in war 411–413 in historiography 5–6, 305, 311, 312n2, 313, 334, 401–407, 410–413, 421–423 military writings 172, 406–409, 411–423, 442, 444, 447–448, 453 on fortress and fortifications 416–418, 440 on military education 414–415 on war planning 415–416, 418–421, 444 ontology of war 409–411 Lossow, Matthias Ludwig von 465a Louis xiv, King of France 187–188, 210, 258, 388 Louis xv, King of France 258 Louis xviii, King of France 47, 61 Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Prussian Queen 466a Louvois, François Michel Le Tellier Marquise of 188 Lützow, Leo von 133, 149n3, 164, 209n4, 223n1, 230n1 Lützow, Maj 149n3, 200

520 Maistre, Joseph de 36 Maliszewski, Ferdinand von 171 Mann, Golo 49n2, 49n3 Manstein, Gustav von 131 Marczak, Józef 1 Maroń, Jerzy 4, 425n6 Marschall von Bieberstein, Fritz Freiherr 123n6 Marwedel, Ulrich 6n1, 311, 376n5, 402n3, 428n4 Massenbach, Christian von 257, 322, 471a Maurice, Prince of Anhalt-Dessau 434 Maurice, Prince of Orange 383 Mauvillon, Friedrich Wilhelm von 172–173 Meerheimb, Ferdinand von 4, 5n1, 171n3, 309n3, 428, 458a, 461a–463a Meinecke, Friedrich 18n3, 22, 24, 57n2, 57n4, 57n5, 73n1, 73n3, 77, 79n2, 79n5, 82n4, 82n8, 84, 85n2, 85n3, 88n3, 88n5, 88n9, 89n2, 89n3, 90, 95–105, 108, 183–188, 191, 195–197, 200n1, 203n1, 204n7, 220n5, 224n3, 236n2, 292n4, 294n1, 294n2, 313, 375n3, 460a Meisner, Heinrich Otto 12–18, 26n3, 27–28, 94n7, 123n1 Messerschmidt, Manfred 81n3, 88n3, 94n1, 95n5, 100–101, 109, 140 Metternich, Klemens Lothar Wenzel 48–49, 52, 56, 57n3, 60, 64–67, 108n1, 128, 216n4, 266 Meyer von Knonau, Gustav 86n8 Millotat, Christian O. 4n3 Moliere, A. 288–291 Moltke the Elder, Helmuth von 1–3, 6, 14, 21, 24, 27–28, 35, 131, 146, 149n1, 153, 176, 396n1, 410, 424, 451 Mombauer, Annika 27n3 Montecuccoli, Raimondo de 169 Montholon, Charles-Tristan de 342n1 Monts, Lt 154, 273, 289–290 Moran, Daniel 41n3 Möllendorff, Wichard von 463a, 465a Müffling, Karl von as Chief of the gs 21, 26–27, 68, 110–129, 147–158, 164–167, 177–178, 180, 265, 267–268, 274–276, 280–281, 289, 301–302, 430, 448, 469a, 470a biography 61, 63, 68, 107–129, 145, 250, 405n3, 430, 467a–469a

Personal index diplomatic missions 15n3, 61, 63–64, 68, 107–108, 129, 216, 250 in historiography 26–27, 79, 180, 251–253, 265, 281, 288, 430 military theory 255–264, 281, 288, 337, 379, 379n2, 385 military writings 161, 172, 250–264 on command 126, 147–149, 153, 177–178, 257–258, 337, 385 on Gneisenau 80, 252, 257–258, 379n2 on Landwehr 86–88 on Napoleon 148, 161, 252, 256, 258–264 on war planning 107–108, 124–125, 145, 150–151, 205, 216–220, 223, 248, 267–268, 274–276, 280–281, 289, 292, 294, 301–302, 448 organization of manoeuvres 126–128 papers 12n2, 15, 181, 250–251 political views 79–81, 86–88, 252–253, 259, 308 Müller, Adam 79, 313–316 Müller, Ernst 12n2 Münkler, Herfried 312n5 Nancy, A.-P.-F. 340n1 Napoleon I, Emperor of the French 46, 52n1, 54, 71n4, 74, 81, 84, 87, 93, 105, 126, 135, 148, 161, 186–187, 195–197, 200, 228, 233, 248, 253, 256, 259–264, 282, 285, 317, 322, 335, 341, 351, 360–367, 370, 373–374, 382, 384–385, 387–388, 391–393, 395–399, 410, 419, 424n3, 430, 433, 437–438, 441–443, 446–447, 449, 453–454, 455a, 459a–460a, 463a, 468a, 471a–472a Natzmer, Gneomar Ernst von 67n5, 125n5, 126n1, 126n1, 128n2, 156n1, 250n2, 298n4, 301n1 Natzmer, Oldwig von 67, 78, 125–126, 180n1, 250, 298n4, 301 Nicholas I, Tsar of Russia 68, 381, 468a Nipperdey, Thomas 48–50, 54n2 Olberg Lt 273 Ollech, Karl von 116n5, 117n3, 127n5, 128n2, 134n4, 147n5, 152n1, 152n2, 152n5, 153–154 Olszewicz, Bartosz 53n2 Osten-Sacken und von Rhein, Otto von der 4n1, 88–89, 102n5

Personal index Panker 290 Panzer, Lt 273 Paret, Peter 2n2, 25n1, 41, 103, 154, 253–254 Passerin d’Entreves, Ettore 7n1 Pertz, Georg H. 65n1, 69, 79n9, 89n2, 95n2, 108n3, 128n2, 128n4, 128n6, 252, 378n7, 379n3 Petersen, Johann Wilhelm 157 Pettersdorf, Herman von 71n1, 77n2, 77n4, 105n10 Pfuel, Ernst von 79, 121, 133, 139n2, 200, 295–297, 343–344, 350 Phull, Karl von 257 Pinter 289 Pirch I, Georg 462a Pirch ii, Otto Karl Lorenz von 176 Pitt the Younger, William 47 Poll, Bernhard 10n1, 22n2, 25n2 Poll, Roswitha 79n7, 178n1, 375–386, 389–390, 396, 398–399, 402n3, 404n3, 406, 428n4, 430n9, 473a Poniatowski, Józef 424 Poten, Bernhard von 34, 36, 163n1, 163n3, 164n5, 176n5, 465a–467a, 469a–470a, 472a Pöhlmann, Markus 2n6, 10n2, 22n2, 22n4, 22n6, 31n2, 166n7 Pönitz, Karl von 319 Prądzyński, Ignacy 226–228, 242, 292, 425 Priesdorff, Kurt von 72n2, 73n1, 75n6, 77n1, 96n4, 100n5, 103n3, 105n6, 106, 126n4, 127, 156n2, 171n3, 401, 403, 406, 407, 411, 428–429, 456a–459a, 461a–467a, 469a–470a, 472a–473a Prittwitz, Karl von 289 Proto, Marco 31n1 Pröhl, Karl 67n3, 68n5 Racine, Jean 344 Radziwiłł, Antoni Prince 73–75, 457a Rahden, Wilhelm von 119n1, 125n7, 129n4, 164n2, 166n1 Raphael 328 Raschke, Martin 20n4, 24n5, 24n6, 24n7 Rauch, Gustav von 16, 81, 97, 106, 128, 135–139, 144, 146, 162, 171, 180n1, 200–202, 204, 216n1, 233n3, 234–236, 455a–457a, 459a, 469a–470a Ravichio de Peretsdorf, Joseph 340n1

521 Reiche, Ludwig von 117, 121 Reichenbach, Philipp von 270, 272, 289–290 Reichenstein, Capt. 290 Reisewitz, Lt 139n2, 200 Reyher, Karl von 116–117, 127n5, 144, 147, 149n1, 152, 290 Reynier, Jean 455a Rheinbaben, Karl von 117 Ribbentrop, Friedrich von 96 Ritter, Gerhard 28, 60n4, 78–81, 101n1, 108, 110, 112, 123, 131–132, 157, 310, 316, 321–322 Rogniat, Joseph 160–162, 172, 269, 271, 321, 327, 341–348, 355–363, 371, 374, 388, 419, 432–433, 436, 438, 440–443, 453 Rosinski, Herbet 4n3, 6n1, 311, 313, 403–404 Rothe, Hans 53n3, 72n7, 141n2, 183–184, 226n1, 227n5, 243n2 Rothenberg, Gunther E. 2n2 Rothfels, Hans 5n3, 26, 274n1 Royer-Luehnes, Camille von 73–74 Röchling, Carl 183 Röder, Carl von 153–155, 231n3, 276–281, 286–288 Röder, Friedrich von 109, 124, 145 Rumpf, H.F. 305n1, 319n3, 341n2, 342n10, 382n8, 403n10, 407–408 Rumpler, Helmuth 8n1 Ruppert, Karl 10n1, 12n4 Rusconi, Gian Enrico 7n1 Rüchel, Ernst von 467a, 469a Rühle von Lilienstern, Jakob Friedrich 470a Rühle von Lilienstern, Johann Jacob Otto autoplagiarism 316–317 biography 470a–472a definitions of strategy and tactics 326– 329, 330, 350–352, 389–390, 410, 434 contemporary warfare 322, 328–336, 444 comparison to Clausewitz 321–321, 336–337, 403–404, 426 in historiography 4–7, 23, 79, 305, 307–323, 329, 331, 333, 336, 340, 376, 403–404 military journals 159–162, 167, 167n9 military writings 79–80, 162, 169n9, 305, 313–336, 343, 350–352, 370, 389–390, 403–404, 410, 412, 426–427, 434, 444, 453 on art of war 322–326, 329, 348, 427 on Landwehr 322–323

522 Rühle von Lilienstern, Johann Jacob (cont.) on military education 163–164, 176, 325–326, 328, 330–331 on small war 334–336, 371 on space and time 336 ontology of war 320–321, 329, 334–336, 345–346, 389–390, 410 positions in army 108–111, 122–123, 127, 133, 139, 159–160, 162–164, 176, 307, 430, 447, 453 relations with A. Müller 79–80, 313–316 relations with Scharnhorst 317–318, 333 Ryssel I, Gustav von 126n1 Salewski, Michael 31 Sand, Karl Ludwig 65 Sauzin, Louis 7n3, 79n8, 315–316 Saxe, Maurice de 433 Scharfenort, Ludwig von 164n6, 177 Scharnhorst, Gerhard von 5–6, 27, 78, 80, 86–87, 94–95, 112, 162–163, 183, 257, 304, 307, 309–311, 312n2, 317–318, 321–322, 333, 378–380, 399, 401–402, 403n6, 406, 412–414, 421, 456a, 458a–459a, 463a, 464a–467a, 470a–471a Schenkendorf, Rittmeister 273 Schering, Walther Malmsten 24n6 Schill, Ferdinand von 93 Schiller, Friedrich 344 Schlichting, Wilhelm Lorenz Sigismund von 396n1 Schlieffen, Alfred von 2, 22, 24, 26–27, 152, 198, 253 Schmidt, 2nd Lt/Lt 268–269, 289 Schmidt, Dorothea 78n4, 88n5, 90–91, 184n1 Schmidt-Bückeburg, Richard 27, 94n8, 96n4, 97n1,122n4 Schmitt, Carl 131n1 Schneider, Fernand T. 7, 312–313, 334, 402–403, 408, 409n3, 412n8, 413, 421 Schnitter, Helmuth 159–160, 169, 176 Scholl, Ferdinand L. 344 Scholz, Gerhard 31n5 Schöler, Ludwig von 96, 135, 200 Schroeder, Paul W. 48n4, 60n3, 62n1, 63n2 Schutz, Col. 202n5 Schwarzenberg, Karl von 64n4, 264, 465a Schwertfeger, Bernhard 163n5, 164n6 Seeley, John Robert 92

Personal index Seier, Hellmut 58n3, 58n6 Selasinsky, Karl von 117 Seydel, Samuel F. 70–71, 242–246, 248 Showalter, Dennis E. 37n2, 82n7 Siemann, Wolfram 48n6, 49n5, 51n3, 55n2, 67n4 Snyder, Jack S. 198n1 Sommer, Hugo 72n2, 105n4, 109n3, 124n3 Stamm-Kuhlmann, Thomas 92n1, 93n1 Stanisław ii Augustus, King of Poland 424n3 Staff, Major 267n2, 273 Steckhan, Gertrud 60n2, 62n3, 62n6, 63n3, 64n1, 70n1 Steigentesch, August von 57, 109 Stein, Karl vom 92, 183, 459a, 463a Steinwehr, Capt. von 159 Stern, Alfred 54n4, 109n5, 266n1 Stewart Robert, Lord Castlereagh 48, 60, 62, 64 Stillfried, Capt. 273 Stoneman, Mark R. 39n7 Strachan, Hew 2n2, 403n5 Strohn, Matthias 377n1 Stübig, Heinz 82n4, 184n1 Syben, Friedrich 93n2 Talleyrand, Charels de 47 Tauentzien, Friedrich von 82, 98, 100,102–105,109 Thielmann, Johann von 70, 77, 100–101, 105–106, 109, 120n2, 138, 455a Thile I, Ludwig Gustav 74, 96 Thümen, Heinrich von 72–73, 100, 105, 140, 226 Toft, Monica D. 64n4 Tomforde, Maren 39n1 Trąbski, Maciej 341n3, 382n2 Trebra, Lt/Capt. von 196n2, 236n1, 266, 289 Treitschke, Heinrich von 51, 63n4, 64n5, 64n7, 64n8, 65n2, 66–68, 80, 82n6, 83n4, 85n2, 88, 90, 107n3, 108n1, 128, 155, 216n2, 308–310, 313, 315 Tresckow, Ernst Christian Albert von 72–73, 225–226, 238 Treskow, Karl Alexander von 72n7 Treskow, Sigmund Otto Joseph von 72n7 Trox, Eckhard 78n4, 81n1, 81n3, 81n4, 176, 338, 339n4

Personal index Troschke, Theodor Freiherr von 160–161, 166n9, 170n7, 171n2, 171n3, 173–175, 317n2, 319n2, 338, 339n4, 340–341, 343–345, 375, 382n4, 401, 420, 427–428 Trzebiatovsky, Capt. 196n2, 273 Uklansky, Maj. von 117, 269–270 Ullrich, Johannes 31n5 Umbreit, Hans 22n3, 22n4, 22n6, 23n2 Vagts, Alfred 79n4 Valentini, Georg Wilhelm von biography 177–178, 377–380, 472a–473a Clausewitz’s criticism 210, 379–382 contemporary warfare 385–396, 444–445 conservatism 79, 377–380 definitions of strategy and tactics 388–390 in historiography 5, 79, 305, 310, 375–380, 382, 426, 428n4 military writings 171, 356, 364, 372, 380–399, 422, 428n4, 437–438, 440, 444–445, 447–448, 453 on Bülow 364, 376–378, 389, 392–394, 411n6 on fortress and fortifications 387–389, 438, 440 on Jomini 393–396, 444 on military education 378–380, 383–385, 405n3, 422, 437–438 on small war 372, 386–387, 396–399, 427n4, 447 relations with others officers 378–380, 388–389, 406–407, 426, 429–430, 446–448 Vardi, Gil-li 39n7 Varnhagen von Ense, Karl 81n2, 104n6, 307 Vauban, Sébastien de 194, 388, 417, 438–440 Vaupel, Rudolf 13n1, 24, 402n1 Veit-Brause, Irmline 8n1 Vilm, Lt 271–272 Wacker, Volker R. 60n4, 60n5, 61n5, 62n4, 62n5, 64n2, 79n1, 81n2, 101n3, 104n7 Wagner, August 133, 159, 161, 164–166, 168–170, 327, 332, 359, 429, 441, 444 Walter, Dierk 1n3, 2, 3n6, 10n2, 31n5, 32, 80n8, 81n4, 83n4, 87n6, 88–90, 131, 149n1, 152n1, 251n3

523 Wallach, Jehuda L. 2n1 Wallendrodt, Louis von 131n2 Wąsicki, Janusz 60n2, 70n3, 70n4, 74n5, 77n2, 77n5, 77n7 Wellesley, Arthur, Duke of Wellington 47, 61–63, 104, 107–108, 187, 216–219, 260–262, 397, 468a Weniger, Erich 80n2, 308n3, 310n7 Wenzell 172n1, 342n5, 357–358, 362, 382n6, 436n3 Werkner, Ines-Jaquline 39n1 Wienhöfer, Erich 58n5, 59n5 Wiesner, Ina 42n1 William, Prussian Prince, brother of Frederick William iii 78, 126n1 William, Prussian Prince, later Emperor William I 67–68, 80, 106, 121–122, 125, 128, 143, 239 William I, King of Netherlands 63, 107, 218–219 William ii, German Emperor 21 Willisen, Karl Wilhelm von 5,7,153, 310–312, 376 Winkler, Heinrich A. 46n2, 49n1, 51, 65n4 Winter, Georg 12–18, 26n4 Witzleben, Heinrich Günther von 473a Witzleben, Job von 24n4, 53n4, 55, 78, 83–84, 96, 109, 121–122, 127–129, 158, 180n1, 250, 430, 452, 470a, 473a–474a Wohlers, Günther 27, 32n1, 94n4, 111, 123 Wolzogen, Ludwig von 57, 209n4, 214–215 Wrangel, August Friedrich von 115 Wroniecki, Antoni 340 Wulffen, Maj. 289–290 Wussow, Philipp von 18, 139, 156, 200 Wyszczelski, Lech 341n3, 377n1, 380n6 Xylander, Johann von 172n4, 254n3, 256n8 Yorck von Wartenburg, Johann Ludwig 98, 375, 377–378, 384, 467a, 470a, 473a–473a Zabecki, David T. 40n3 Zielinski, Karl Heinrich von 238 Zieten, Wieprecht Hans von 62, 81, 101, 103–104, 107, 109, 117, 124, 126, 127n5, 139, 468a Zola, Émile 36 Zuber, Terence 1n3, 2

Geographic index Aachen 60, 62–65, 107, 129, 137, 208, 216, 220–222, 267, 468a, 471a Adelnau (Odolanów) 196n2, 236, 293 Adrianople 66n5, 299 Allenstein (Olsztyn) 136, 225 Alsace 219–220 Angerapp (Węgorapa), river 236, 238 Angerburg (Węgorzewo) 225, 243, 245 Antwerp 217–219, 221–223, 250 Ardennes 217, 474a Aspern 472a Ath 217 Auerstedt 46, 456a, 459a, 466a, 475a Austerlitz 361, 443 Austria 3, 14, 26, 40, 47–60, 63–68, 74, 77, 87, 133, 142, 154–155, 165, 199, 214, 228, 238, 240–241, 246–247, 256, 269, 270–272, 274–276, 292n2, 320, 322, 346, 349, 361, 364, 398, 452, 463a, 469a, 471a Babruysk 195, 294 Baden 133n4, 214–215, 223, 463a Basel 214 Baltic Sea 53, 239–240, 245, 290, 293 Bautzen 263, 277, 455a, 462a, 472a Bavaria 8n1, 9, 52, 55–59, 133n4, 214, 355 Belgern 273 Belgium 47, 54, 63, 203, 209, 216, 262, 457a Belgard (Białogard) 291 Bergen op Zoom 218 Berlin 9, 12, 14–16, 51, 53–54, 62, 65, 69, 76, 95, 99, 102, 109–110, 112n1, 113, 116–117, 124, 126, 128–129, 134, 137, 146, 167, 199, 201, 228–229, 231–232, 235, 250, 263, 266–270, 272–273, 275–285, 294, 369, 430, 450, 452, 455a–461a, 463a, 467a, 469a–474a Berlin-Dahlem 9, 12, 18, 20n2, 25n3, 27, 29, 135n1, 136, 184, 185n1, 220, 450 Berlin-Lichterfelde 450 Bernstadt (Bierutów) 290 Bessarabia 298 Białystok 243 Bielefeld 137, 204 Birkenfeld 208 Bischofsburg (Biskupiec) 241, 289

Black Elster, river 231, 268–269, 277–280 Black Sea 298–299 Bober (Bóbr), river 275, 278 Bohemia 133n4, 231, 263–264, 268–269, 272, 274–277, 281, 290, 361, 371 Bolkenhain (Bolków) 136, 196 Bonn 137, 296, 387 Borodino 260 Brabant 221 Brandenburg 51, 69–70, 100, 102, 273, 283, 459a Breisgau 199 Brieg (Brzeg) 136, 235 Bromberg (Bydgoszcz) 53, 72, 136, 233n1, 289, 457a Brums 211 Brunswick 133n4, 136, 204, 214 Brussels 63, 107–108, 216–219, 223, 468a Bug, river 75n6, 199, 239, 387 Burgas 298–299 Burgundy 223 Bülow 291 Bzura, river 199 Cambrai 222, 354 Carlsbad (Karlovy Vary) 57, 65, 85, 472a Central Europe 48, 52 Châlons-sur-Marne 391 Champaubert 456a Charlemont 461a Charleroi 216n1, 217, 354 Chaumont 63 Cleves 51, 70, 203 Coburg 214 Cologne 15, 59, 63, 125, 137, 149n2, 200–204, 206, 208–209, 211, 216, 218, 220–222, 267, 296–297, 355, 357, 387, 405, 456a Cologne-Deutz 125 Constantinople 298–301, 468a Cosel (Koźle) 56, 198, 228, 232, 234–235, 238, 266, 274, 293 Cracow (Kraków) 52, 56, 229, 292 Cracow, Free City of 56, 133n4, 228–229, 290, 424n2 Curonian Lagoon 238, 241, 245 Częstochowa 294

Geographic index Dalmatia 133n4 Damm 236 Danube, river 274, 281, 283, 286, 298–300, 367, 388, 391, 393, 419 Deime (Dejma, now Deyma), river 234, 238, 241, 245 Delitsch 273 Dennewitz 457a, 459a Deutsch Eylau (Iława) 289 Dinant 216a, 217 Dirschau (Tczew) 225, 238, 241 Dnieper, river 53, 239, 388 Dniester, river 53, 300 Doberlug-Kirchhain 275 Dobruja 299 Drakhein 196n2, 291 Dresden 231, 263, 269, 277–278, 284, 287, 315, 387, 456a, 462a, 471a Drewenz (Drwęca), river 136, 230 Driesen (Drezdenko) 152 Duisburg 172 Düsseldorf 137, 208, 296–297, 387 East Prussia 15, 69, 136, 183, 196, 224–225, 229–231, 233–237, 239–247, 289, 293–294, 378, 456a, 460a, 466a Eder, river 139n2 Ehrenbreitstein 59, 200, 204n3, 455a Eichsfeld 202 Eifel, river 200, 203, 208, 296 Eilenburg 273, 275 Eisenach 269 Elbe, river 14, 98, 106, 136, 138, 154, 192, 198, 200–202, 224, 228, 231, 244, 263, 267–272, 275–281, 283–285, 287–288, 291, 293, 295, 387, 441 Elbing (Elbląg) 460a Elster, river 276, 284–285, 287, 424n3 Elsterwerda 267, 273, 277–279 England 14, 63, 203, 462a Erfurt 137, 166, 200–202, 205, 215, 221–223, 267–275, 277, 281, 353, 469a, 473a Essen 172 Etoges 461a Europe 9, 16, 37, 46–55, 60, 62, 64, 66–68, 87, 91, 118, 131, 154–157, 161, 173, 192, 196, 198, 203, 215–216, 240, 250, 259, 269, 298, 300, 341n3, 346, 348, 383, 418, 426, 435–436, 449, 453

525 Farther Pomerania 234n3, 289 Fehrbellin 3 Flanders 217, 221–223 Fordon 289 Franconian Forest 272 Frankfurt (Oder) 15, 231n4, 238–239, 273, 461a Frankfurt am Main 214, 269, 391 France 3, 8n1, 9, 13, 15, 21, 47–48, 52, 54, 59–64, 66, 81, 100–101, 107, 131, 133, 139, 142, 144, 159, 162, 175, 194, 196, 198–200, 203, 205, 208, 212, 215–216, 220–222, 224n1, 238, 240, 246, 294n4, 295–296, 341, 348, 354–356, 361, 369, 378n3, 387–388, 394, 402, 405, 417, 428, 433, 435, 441, 446–447, 452, 455a–457a, 459a, 462a, 466a–469a, 471a Franche-Comté 223 Frauenburg (Frombork) 289 Freiburg im Breisgau 30n1, 450 Friedland 470a Friesland 133n4 Fürstenwalde 273 Galicia 56, 74, 133n4, 199, 228 Gallipoli 300 Gdańsk (Danzig) 52, 225n4, 229, 233–235, 237–238, 240, 244–245, 247, 267, 291–292, 355, 387, 405, 465a–466a, 469a Gelgen 270 Gera, river 271–272 Germany 12, 14, 18, 23, 31, 48–50, 52, 54–59, 64, 69, 77, 92, 173, 200, 207, 217, 222–223, 227, 240, 268–269, 272, 304, 309, 342, 364, 376, 387, 441–442, 452, 462a Germersheim 8n1, 214, 387 Ghent 217 Gießen 265, 381n6 Gilge (now Matrosovo) 234 Gilgestrom (Gilga, now Matrossowka), river 245 Givet 461a Glatz (Kłodzko) 51, 136, 232, 234–235, 266, 290, 429, 461a Glogau (Głogów) 72, 129, 136, 199, 228–229, 231–232, 234, 237–238, 244–245, 247, 267–269, 274, 277, 289–290, 375n5, 429, 464a–465a, 473a Gnesen (Gniezno) 289 Goldapp (Gołdap) 238

526 Goldberg (Złotoryja) 290, 467a Goldberg-Niederau 467a Gollub 196, 230 Gopło Lake 226 Görlitz 231, 236, 267, 273, 277–280, 287–288 Göttingen 215 Graudenz (Grudziądz) 225, 229, 234–235, 237–238, 241, 244–245, 247, 289, 291–292, 388, 404–405, 407, 466a Great Balkans, mountain 299 Great Britain 47, 50–51, 60, 66n5, 240 Great Lakes region 136 Greater Poland, Grand Duchy of Posen, Province of Posen 51–53, 56, 70–74, 76, 100, 124, 133n4, 142, 183, 224–230, 232, 237–245, 248, 290, 460a, 464a Greece 66n5 Grodno 243, 245 Groß Wartenberg (Syców) 293 Großenlinden 381n1 Großgörschen 263, 455a–456a, 459a, 461a–462a, 472a–473a Guarch 215 Guhren (Górzyn) 290 Güstrow 136 Hamburg 214, 270, 273, 361, 387 Hanau 222–223 Hann. Münden 223 Hanover, city 136, 204 Hanover, land 50, 55, 57, 133n4, 214–215, 272, 441 Harz Mountain 202, 209, 268, 272 Havelberg 136 Heilsberg 463a Herzberg 273, 275–276, 278, 284–285 Herzogenbusch 218 Hesse-Darmstadt 133n4, 215, 381n1 Hesse-Kassel 133n4, 214, 221 Hez 215 Hirschberg (Jelenia Góra) 290 Hohes Venn 201 Holstein 50, 213–215 Homburg 221n1 Hoyerswerda 231, 273, 277 Hungary 74, 133n4, 419 Huy 216n1, 217

Geographic index Inster (Wystruć, now Instruch) river 241 Insterburg (Wystruć, now Chernyakhovsk) 198, 233, 238, 243, 293 Ismail 298–299 Italy 14, 47, 66, 75n6, 133n4, 155, 346, 354–355, 364, 381n1 Jena 46, 387, 455a, 457a, 461a, 463a, 472a Johannesberg (Krzyż) 225 Johannisburg (Pisz) 245 Josefstadt 388 Jurbarkas 243 Jülich 200, 203, 221–222, 296, 357 Jülich-Cleves-Berg 51, 70 Kaiserslautern 207, 221, 457a Kalau 273, 277 Kalisch (Kalisz) 72, 226, 238–239, 290, 292 Kassel 137, 206, 296 Katzbach (Kaczawa, river) 238, 278, 467a, 472a Kaunas 241 Kiev 3 Koblenz 15, 59, 70, 103, 107, 137, 166, 200–202, 204–209, 211, 213, 215, 218–219, 221–223, 267, 295–297, 355, 357, 450, 455a, 458a, 462a, 468a Kolberg (Kołobrzeg) 234–235, 244, 291 Koło 227 Konin 227 Konitz (Chojnice) 248 Końskie 292 Kontopp (Konotop) 289 Kopanica 236 Kosten (Kościan) 229n1 Kostschin (Kostrzyn) 231n4 Königgrätz 131 Königs Wusterhausen 231 Königsberg (Królewiec, now Kaliningrad) 73n1, 136–138, 144, 196, 198, 225, 229, 233–247, 289, 293, 456a, 458a, 460a, 469a, 471a Königswartha-Weißig 470a Köpenick 231n4 Kreuzberg 290 Kreuznach 207 Krotoschin (Krotoszyn) 290

Geographic index

527

Kruschwitz (Kruszwica) 229n1, 289, 293 Kulm (Chełmno) 136, 238 Kulm 456a, 462a, 464a Kurmark 133n4 Küstrin (Kostrzyn nad Odrą) 15, 199, 228, 234, 244, 263, 267, 268–269, 273–274, 293

Luxembourg, city and fortress 59, 113, 199n3, 200, 203–204, 214–215, 216n4, 218n3, 221, 296, 461a Luxembourg, land 50 Lyck (Ełk) 136, 196, 229–230, 234, 236, 238, 245, 289 Łąki (Lakie) 429n3

La Ferté 461a Labiau (Labiawa, now Polessk) 234, 238, 241 Lahn, river 200, 296–297 Lähn (Wleń) 136, 196 Landau 59, 221n1, 471a Landeshut (Kamienna Góra) 277–278, 290 Laon 233, 252 Lauenburg 50, 121 Leipzig 202, 204, 264, 272, 391, 407, 424n3, 455a–457a, 460a, 462a, 464a, 467a, 471a–472a, 474a Leubus (Lubiąż) 136, 196 Leuthen 3, 186, 210, 261, 263, 366 Leuven 223 Lieberose 273 Liège 216n1, 216–218, 457a Liegnitz (Legnica) 283, 289, 367 Ligny 161, 260–262, 455a, 461a–462a, 473a Lippe, river 133n4, 200, 203, 209, 295n5 Lippstadt 136, 204n3 Lissa (Leszno) 290 Little Balkans, mountains 299 Ljubljana 64 Lochstedt Castle 233 Lodi 187 London 47, 112n1, 251, 468a Longwy 137, 218n3, 465a Lorraine 203–204, 221, 223 Lower Rhine 15, 51, 57, 70, 206, 455a Lötzen (Giżycko) 138, 142, 144, 183, 229, 234, 236, 241–242, 293 Löwenberg (Lwówek Śląski) 290 Lublin 226n6, 450 Luckau 137, 228, 231, 273, 276–278, 285 Lusatia 55–56, 124, 201, 228, 244, 277, 282–283, 286–287 Lübben 231, 273 Lübeck 214, 472a Lüttich 221

Maastricht 203, 217–219, 221–222 Magdeburg 136, 201–202, 204, 267–274, 354, 361, 387, 458a, 461a, 466a Main, river 56, 223, 268–269, 297 Mainz 8n1, 52, 59, 63, 137, 200, 203, 206–209, 212–213, 216, 219–223, 296–297, 353, 387 Malmedy 200, 207 Mannheim 215, 221–2222, 387 Marburg 222–223 Marche-en-Famenne 217 Marggrabowa (Olecko) 225 Mariembourg 217 Marienburg (Malbork) 225, 234–235, 238, 241, 245, 247 Mangalia 299 Mansfelde (Lipie Góry) 429n3 Marburg 222–223 Marengo 361–362, 443 Marienwerder (Kwidzyn) 247, 289 Marne, river 3, 362, 391 Maubeuge 216n1, 461a Mecklenburg 133n4, 214, 273 Memel (Klaipėda), city 198, 225, 228, 234, 236, 240–241, 243, 245, 473a Memel (Niemen), river 57, 225, 231, 233–234, 236–237, 239, 245, 361, 388, 468a Menen 221 Meppen 133n4 Merseburg 54, 137, 273 Mery 472a Mesenritz 273a Metz 200, 204n1, 206–207, 217, 222 Meuse, river 63, 203–204, 208, 216–223, 296–297 Mezieres 465a, 475a Mexico 346 Midiye 298 Militsch (Milicz) 196n2, 236n1 Minden 136, 200, 202, 204n3, 221–223, 271, 273, 296, 357

528 Mitau (Mitawa, now Jelgava) 241, 243 Mittenwalde 231n4 Modlin 234, 292–293, 387 Moldavia 298–299 Mons 216n1, 217 Montmartre 461a Montmédy 465a, 474a Moravia 133n4, 268, 274, 395 Moselle, river 59, 200, 203–204, 206–209, 214, 221–222, 296 Moscow 51, 57, 388 Muhlrose 273 Muskau 273 Mückenberg 277 Mühlberg 279 Müllbach 201 Münster 109, 137–138, 204n3, 209n4, 222, 469a Myslowitz (Mysłowice) 290 Nakło Lake 136, 230 Namur 203, 211, 216n1, 216–219, 221–223 Naples 64, 66, 155, 181n1, 187, 465a Narew, river 143, 199, 239, 242, 245, 387, 425 Nassau 133n4, 214–215, 221 Navarino 66n5 Neidenburg (Nidzica) 225, 234, 236, 238 Neisse (Nysa), city and fortress 56, 232, 234–235, 266, 274, 277, 283, 290, 461a Neisse (Nysa), river 275, 279 Netherlands 48, 50, 54, 57, 61–63, 107, 112n1, 133n4, 199, 208, 216–219, 223, 296–297, 354, 468a, 472a Netze (Noteć), river 14, 228–229, 232, 246, 289 Netzedistrikt 71–72 Neuchâtel (Neuenburg) 51, 133n4 Neumark 72, 98, 133n4, 230, 234, 244–245, 270, 272–273, 460a Neusalz (Nowa Sól) 289 Neustettin (Szczecinek) 291 Niesky 273 Nieuwpoort 220–221 Nijmegen 218, 221 Nikolaiken (Mikołajki) 241 Norkitten 196 Norway 133n4 Notte, river 231, 267, 276, 278, 283 Nuremberg 269 Nuthe, river 231, 267, 276, 278, 283, 285

Geographic index Obornik (Oborniki) 229n1 Oder (Odra) 55, 136, 138, 199, 201, 226–232, 236n1, 238–239, 242, 244, 267–269, 275, 278, 289–291, 293–295, 308, 387, 457a Odessa 298 Oels (Oleśnica) 290 Ohlau (Oława) 136 Oldenburg 133n4, 215 Olszynka Grochowska 424n2 Opava 64 Ore Mountains 201–202, 268–269, 277 Ortelsburg (Szczytno) 196 Osnabrück 133n4 Ostend 216–221 Osterode (Ostróda) 236, 289, 293 Palanga 267 Paris 17, 57, 60–61, 63, 68, 107, 161, 176, 196, 224n1, 240, 267, 360, 369, 455a, 459a, 467a–468a, 470a, 474a Persia (ancient) 346 Philippeville 217, 461a Philipsburg 214–216 Peisern (Pyzdry) 136, 226–227, 230 Pillau (Piława, now Bałtijsk) 229, 233, 235, 237–240, 243–245, 289 Piotrków (now Piotrków Trybunalski) 243– 244, 292 Pforzheim 215 Pleisse, river 201 Płock 243–244 Poland, Kingdom of 17n1, 47, 51–53, 56, 68, 71–76, 155, 224–225, 227–228, 233, 237–238, 240–241, 243, 245–246, 291, 293, 340–341, 361, 387, 424, 449, 458a Poltava 195 Pomerania 14, 51, 70, 72, 77, 98, 102, 106, 133n4, 201, 234, 237, 245, 289–293, 404–405, 429, 473a Portugal 133n4 Posen (Poznań) 14, 72–73, 105, 136, 140, 183, 227, 229–230, 232, 234–239, 243n2, 244, 268, 289–290, 292–294, 424, 450, 456a, 460a, 464a Posen, Grand Duchy of, Province of Posen see Greater Poland Potsdam 10, 12, 29, 231, 272, 378n3, 469a, 471a Powidz Lake 136, 226–227, 230 Prague 371, 395

Geographic index Pregel (Pregoła, now Pregolya), river 198, 234, 238, 241, 245 Preußisch-Eylau 241, 289, 329, 387, 461a–462a Prosna, river 52, 56, 136, 227 Prut, river 298–299 Prüm 201, 208, 219 Quatre-Bras 161, 260, 262 Queis (Kwisa) 231 Ragnit (Ragneta, now Neman) 234, 236, 245 Rastenburg (Kętrzyn) 238, 241, 243 Rastatt 8n1 Ratekau 468a Rawa 292 Regensburg on the Danube 391 Rehden (Radzyń Chełmiński) 289 Reichenbach im Eulengebirge (Dzierżoniów) 289 Reuland 219 Rhein (Ryn) 225 Rhine, river 8, 15, 51, 55, 57, 59, 61–62, 68, 99, 107, 137, 139n2, 145, 147, 155, 199–209, 211–217, 219, 221–223, 262, 265, 267–269, 271, 273, 296–297, 361, 369, 387, 449, 468a, 470a, 471a, 474a Rhineland 15, 51, 54, 62–63, 70, 100–101, 106, 112, 120n2, 133n4, 137, 139, 142–145, 200–201, 204–205, 207, 211–213, 216, 224, 231, 235, 240, 248–249, 272, 295, 353, 405, 407, 465a, 468a Rhineland Palatinate 216, 224 Riesengebirge 290 Ringelberge 270 Riga 195, 243, 294 Rossbach 261 Ruhr, region 139n2 Ruhr, river 201, 222, 296 Rumburg (Rumburk) 277 Russia 14, 17n1, 20n3, 47–48, 51–53, 55–56, 59–60, 64n4, 65–68, 71n4, 77, 87, 133n4, 141–143, 154–156, 198–199, 228, 237–247, 286, 292–293, 298–301, 360–362, 423, 445–446, 455a, 459a–460a, 462a, 464a, 468a, 472a Saale, river 198, 268–269, 272, 361 Saalfeld 472a Saalfeld (Zalewo) 239

529 Saar, river 198n3, 203, 207, 220–221 Saarbrücken 203, 207, 211, 215 Saarlouis 59, 137, 203–209, 211, 222, 296, 357 Sagan (Żagań) 290 Sagunt 463a Saint-Amand 260 Saint Petersburg 57, 65, 468 Salmonsborn 270 Sambia 137, 233, 236, 242 Sambre, river 216, 223 Sardinia 48, 64, 66, 156 Saxony, land 47, 49, 52–53, 57, 133n4, 206, 214–215, 231, 239, 263, 269, 272–273, 275, 277, 279n2, 282–283, 360–361, 457a, 463a Saxony, Prussian province 51, 53, 70, 76–77, 100, 125, 133n4, 244, 270, 272, 275, 277 Schandau 267 Scheldt, river 63, 216, 220–222 Schippenbeil (Sępopol) 289 Schivelbein 291 Schlieben 275 Schmiedeberg (Kowary) 290 Schweidnitz (Świdnica) 16, 136, 231, 234–235, 269, 274, 278, 290 Schweinhaus (Świny) 136, 196 Schwetz (Świecie) 238 Sedan 3, 137, 465a, 474a Senftenberg 231, 269, 277, 279–280, 287 Shumen 299 Siebengebirge 200n10, 295n5 Sieg, river 139n2, 200 Sieradz 244 Silberberg (Srebrna Góra) 232, 234–235, 246, 266, 274, 429 Silesia 14, 16, 51, 55–56, 70, 72, 98–100, 103–104, 106, 117, 133n4, 136, 142, 145, 225, 228–232, 234, 237, 239–240, 243–247, 263, 265, 272, 275–278, 280–284, 286–290, 293, 379, 461a–462a, 467a Sławsk 227 Słupca 136, 226–227, 230 Słuszyn 227 Simmern 222 Służew 292 Soissons 461a Soldau (Działdowo) 241, 243–244, 463a South Germany 56–57, 223, 272

530 Spain 64, 66, 133n4, 187, 247, 295n1, 335, 354–355, 397, 399, 424, 427, 430, 432, 436, 440, 445–446, 463a Spandau 136, 201, 228 Sparrenburg 204 Speyerbach 221–222 Spirdingsee (Lake Śniardwy) 241 Spree 79, 154, 279 Spreewald 276 Spremberg 267, 273, 277, 279–280 Sprottau (Szprotawa) 283 St. Vith 203, 219 Stettin (Szczecin) 201, 228, 235, 244, 263, 267, 291, 405 Stralsund 93, 136, 201, 204n3, 228 Strasbourg 215, 217, 387 Strasburg in Wetpreußen (Brodnica) 289 Strehlen (Strzelin) 290 Stuttgart 63, 216 Sudetes Mountain 228, 244, 267 Sweden 14, 133n4, 240 Swinemünde (Świnoujście) 235 Switzerland 14, 17, 364, 432 Szytno 227 Taciewo 238 Tarnopol 52 Tauroggen (Tauragė) 239 Thorn (Toruń) 52, 136, 225–227, 229, 234–238, 240–242, 244–248, 267–268, 289, 291–292, 294, 462a Thuringia 56, 133n4, 223, 353, 467a Thuringian Forest 199, 201–202, 223, 268, 272 Transylvania 133n4, 300 Tapiau (Tapiewo, now Gvardeysk) 233 Thionville 137, 206–207, 218n3, 222 Tilsit 52n1, 225, 239, 241, 243, 246, 402n1, 457a–460a, 463a Tilsit, river 388 Torgau 54, 137, 201–202, 205, 231, 267–276, 278–280, 283–285, 287, 387, 455a Tournai 217, 221–222, 354–355 Trarbach 208–209 Trautenau (Trutnov) 278 Treuenbietzen 273 Trier 137, 198, 204, 207–209, 211–212, 215, 221–223, 296–297, 353

Geographic index Turkey, Ottoman Empire 14, 66n5, 67–68, 133n4, 155–156, 298–300, 381n4, 472a Tyrol 9, 160, 346, 386, 397–398 Upper Rhine 57, 213, 219 Upper Silesia 228, 239, 244–245, 293 Ulm 8n1, 221 Unstrut, river 268 Valenciennes 216n1, 222 Varna 298–299 Varna Lake 299 Vatican 131 Vauchamps 456a Vendée 295, 378, 386, 397–398, 446 Venlo 221 Verona 60n3, 64 Vienna 46–48, 51, 52n1, 57, 65, 68, 74, 124, 155, 198, 240, 250, 283–284, 308, 388, 395, 456a, 471a Vilnius (Wilno) 239, 241 Vistula (Wisła) 52–53, 136, 144, 185n1, 199, 225–226, 229–230, 233–234, 236–240, 242–247, 267, 289, 291–294, 361, 369, 387, 424, 441, 443, 445, 459a–460a Vistula Lagoon 289 Vosges 199n3 Waal, river 218 Wagram 419, 472 Waldeck 133n4 Wallachia 298–300 Wałcz 429n3 Warsaw (Warszawa) 17n1, 51, 53, 71n4, 75, 226, 230, 238–239, 241–248, 269, 340, 387, 424n1, 460–461a Warthe (Warta) 14, 136, 143, 199, 226–232, 238, 242, 289 Warmia 52 Wartenburg 467a Waterloo 62, 128, 135, 187, 210, 253, 260–262, 329, 356, 455a, 461a–462a, 465a, 473a Wavre 262 Wehlau (Welawa, now Znamensk) 233, 238, 241–242 Werre, river 223 Wesel 59, 125, 137, 139n2, 200–204, 206, 212, 267, 295n1, 387, 457a

531

Geographic index Weser, river 15, 199, 202, 223, 267, 296 West Pomerania 201, 293, 429n3 West Prussia 51–53, 70, 98, 100, 133n4, 225, 228, 233, 235, 238, 241, 291–292 Westerhausen 273 Westphalia 51, 54, 69–70, 100–101, 105, 129, 133n4, 138, 172, 200n8, 209n4, 211n6, 212, 271–273, 295, 353, 467a Wieliczka 52 Willenberg (Wielbark) 225 Wittenberg 54, 98, 137, 201, 231, 268–270, 272–276, 280, 283, 387 Wittstock 136 Włocławek 227 Wollin (Wolin), island 291 Worms 215 Wreschen (Września) 290

Wrocław (Breslau) 4, 14, 142, 196, 199, 228–229, 231n4, 232, 235–237, 239, 244, 246–247, 265–266, 277, 288–294 Württemberg 55, 133n4, 214–215, 344 Würzburg 215, 223 Xions (Książ Wielkopolski)  460a Ypres 216 Zamość 294 Zaragoza 425 Zeitz 196 Zittau 124, 231, 267, 277–278 Zossen 231, 275 Zweibrücken 221