What may be the special object of a battle, how it is connected with the
whole system of a War, whither the career of victory may lead according
to the nature of circumstances, where its culminating-point lies--all
these are things which we shall not enter upon until hereafter. But
under any conceivable circumstances the fact holds good, that without a
pursuit no victory can have a great effect, and that, however short the
career of victory may be, it must always lead beyond the first steps in
pursuit; and in order to avoid the frequent repetition of this, we
shall now dwell for a moment on this necessary supplement of victory in
general.

The pursuit of a beaten Army commences at the moment that Army, giving
up the combat, leaves its position; all previous movements in one
direction and another belong not to that but to the progress of the
battle itself. Usually victory at the moment here described, even if it
is certain, is still as yet small and weak in its proportions, and would
not rank as an event of any great positive advantage if not completed by
a pursuit on the first day. Then it is mostly, as we have before said,
that the trophies which give substance to the victory begin to be
gathered up. Of this pursuit we shall speak in the next place.

Usually both sides come into action with their physical powers
considerably deteriorated, for the movements immediately preceding have
generally the character of very urgent circumstances. The efforts which
the forging out of a great combat costs, complete the exhaustion;
from this it follows that the victorious party is very little less
disorganised and out of his original formation than the vanquished,
and therefore requires time to reform, to collect stragglers, and issue
fresh ammunition to those who are without. All these things place
the conqueror himself in the state of crisis of which we have already
spoken. If now the defeated force is only a detached portion of
the enemy's Army, or if it has otherwise to expect a considerable
reinforcement, then the conqueror may easily run into the obvious danger
of having to pay dear for his victory, and this consideration, in such
a case, very soon puts an end to pursuit, or at least restricts it
materially. Even when a strong accession of force by the enemy is not
to be feared, the conqueror finds in the above circumstances a powerful
check to the vivacity of his pursuit. There is no reason to fear
that the victory will be snatched away, but adverse combats are still
possible, and may diminish the advantages which up to the present have
been gained. Moreover, at this moment the whole weight of all that is
sensuous in an Army, its wants and weaknesses, are dependent on the will
of the Commander. All the thousands under his command require rest
and refreshment, and long to see a stop put to toil and danger for the
present; only a few, forming an exception, can see and feel beyond the
present moment, it is only amongst this little number that there is
sufficient mental vigour to think, after what is absolutely necessary at
the moment has been done, upon those results which at such a moment only
appear to the rest as mere embellishments of victory--as a luxury of
triumph. But all these thousands have a voice in the council of the
General, for through the various steps of the military hierarchy these
interests of the sensuous creature have their sure conductor into the
heart of the Commander. He himself, through mental and bodily fatigue,
is more or less weakened in his natural activity, and thus it happens
then that, mostly from these causes, purely incidental to human nature,
less is done than might have been done, and that generally what is done
is to be ascribed entirely to the THIRST FOR GLORY, the energy, indeed
also the HARD-HEARTEDNESS of the General-in-Chief. It is only thus we
can explain the hesitating manner in which many Generals follow up a
victory which superior numbers have given them. The first pursuit of the
enemy we limit in general to the extent of the first day, including the
night following the victory. At the end of that period the necessity of
rest ourselves prescribes a halt in any case.

This first pursuit has different natural degrees.

The first is, if cavalry alone are employed; in that case it amounts
usually more to alarming and watching than to pressing the enemy in
reality, because the smallest obstacle of ground is generally sufficient
to check the pursuit. Useful as cavalry may be against single bodies of
broken demoralised troops, still when opposed to the bulk of the beaten
Army it becomes again only the auxiliary arm, because the troops in
retreat can employ fresh reserves to cover the movement, and, therefore,
at the next trifling obstacle of ground, by combining all arms they can
make a stand with success. The only exception to this is in the case of
an army in actual flight in a complete state of dissolution.

The second degree is, if the pursuit is made by a strong advance-guard
composed of all arms, the greater part consisting naturally of cavalry.
Such a pursuit generally drives the enemy as far as the nearest strong
position for his rear-guard, or the next position affording space for
his Army. Neither can usually be found at once, and, therefore, the
pursuit can be carried further; generally, however, it does not extend
beyond the distance of one or at most a couple of leagues, because
otherwise the advance-guard would not feel itself sufficiently
supported. The third and most vigorous degree is when the victorious
Army itself continues to advance as far as its physical powers can
endure. In this case the beaten Army will generally quit such ordinary
positions as a country usually offers on the mere show of an attack, or
of an intention to turn its flank; and the rear-guard will be still less
likely to engage in an obstinate resistance.

In all three cases the night, if it sets in before the conclusion of
the whole act, usually puts an end to it, and the few instances in which
this has not taken place, and the pursuit has been continued throughout
the night, must be regarded as pursuits in an exceptionally vigorous
form.

If we reflect that in fighting by night everything must be, more or
less, abandoned to chance, and that at the conclusion of a battle the
regular cohesion and order of things in an army must inevitably be
disturbed, we may easily conceive the reluctance of both Generals to
carrying on their business under such disadvantageous conditions. If a
complete dissolution of the vanquished Army, or a rare superiority
of the victorious Army in military virtue does not ensure success,
everything would in a manner be given up to fate, which can never be for
the interest of any one, even of the most fool-hardy General. As a rule,
therefore, night puts an end to pursuit, even when the battle has only
been decided shortly before darkness sets in. This allows the conquered
either time for rest and to rally immediately, or, if he retreats
during the night it gives him a march in advance. After this break the
conquered is decidedly in a better condition; much of that which had
been thrown into confusion has been brought again into order, ammunition
has been renewed, the whole has been put into a fresh formation.
Whatever further encounter now takes place with the enemy is a new
battle not a continuation of the old, and although it may be far from
promising absolute success, still it is a fresh combat, and not merely a
gathering up of the debris by the victor.

When, therefore, the conqueror can continue the pursuit itself
throughout the night, if only with a strong advance-guard composed
of all arms of the service, the effect of the victory is immensely
increased, of this the battles of Leuthen and La Belle Alliance(*) are
examples.

(*) Waterloo.

The whole action of this pursuit is mainly tactical, and we only dwell
upon it here in order to make plain the difference which through it may
be produced in the effect of a victory.

This first pursuit, as far as the nearest stopping-point, belongs as a
right to every conqueror, and is hardly in any way connected with his
further plans and combinations. These may considerably diminish the
positive results of a victory gained with the main body of the Army, but
they cannot make this first use of it impossible; at least cases of that
kind, if conceivable at all, must be so uncommon that they should have
no appreciable influence on theory. And here certainly we must say
that the example afforded by modern Wars opens up quite a new field for
energy. In preceding Wars, resting on a narrower basis, and altogether
more circumscribed in their scope, there were many unnecessary
conventional restrictions in various ways, but particularly in this
point. THE CONCEPTION, HONOUR OF VICTORY seemed to Generals so much
by far the chief thing that they thought the less of the complete
destruction of the enemy's military force, as in point of fact that
destruction of force appeared to them only as one of the many means in
War, not by any means as the principal, much less as the only means; so
that they the more readily put the sword in its sheath the moment the
enemy had lowered his. Nothing seemed more natural to them than to
stop the combat as soon as the decision was obtained, and to regard all
further carnage as unnecessary cruelty. Even if this false philosophy
did not determine their resolutions entirely, still it was a point
of view by which representations of the exhaustion of all powers, and
physical impossibility of continuing the struggle, obtained readier
evidence and greater weight. Certainly the sparing one's own instrument
of victory is a vital question if we only possess this one, and foresee
that soon the time may arrive when it will not be sufficient for all
that remains to be done, for every continuation of the offensive must
lead ultimately to complete exhaustion. But this calculation was still
so far false, as the further loss of forces by a continuance of the
pursuit could bear no proportion to that which the enemy must suffer.
That view, therefore, again could only exist because the military forces
were not considered the vital factor. And so we find that in former Wars
real heroes only--such as Charles XII., Marlborough, Eugene, Frederick
the Great--added a vigorous pursuit to their victories when they were
decisive enough, and that other Generals usually contented themselves
with the possession of the field of battle. In modern times the greater
energy infused into the conduct of Wars through the greater importance
of the circumstances from which they have proceeded has thrown down
these conventional barriers; the pursuit has become an all-important
business for the conqueror; trophies have on that account multiplied in
extent, and if there are cases also in modern Warfare in which this has
not been the case, still they belong to the list of exceptions, and are
to be accounted for by peculiar circumstances.

At Gorschen(*) and Bautzen nothing but the superiority of the allied
cavalry prevented a complete rout, at Gross Beeren and Dennewitz
the ill-will of Bernadotte, the Crown Prince of Sweden; at Laon the
enfeebled personal condition of Bluecher, who was then seventy years
old and at the moment confined to a dark room owing to an injury to his
eyes.

(*) Gorschen or Lutzen, May 2, 1813; Gross Beeren and
Dennewitz, August 22, 1813; Bautzen. May 22, 1913; Laon,
March 10 1813.

But Borodino is also an illustration to the point here, and we cannot
resist saying a few more words about it, partly because we do not
consider the circumstances are explained simply by attaching blame to
Buonaparte, partly because it might appear as if this, and with it a
great number of similar cases, belonged to that class which we have
designated as so extremely rare, cases in which the general relations
seize and fetter the General at the very beginning of the battle. French
authors in particular, and great admirers of Buonaparte (Vaudancourt,
Chambray, Se'gur), have blamed him decidedly because he did not drive
the Russian Army completely off the field, and use his last reserves to
scatter it, because then what was only a lost battle would have been
a complete rout. We should be obliged to diverge too far to describe
circumstantially the mutual situation of the two Armies; but this much
is evident, that when Buonaparte passed the Niemen with his Army the
same corps which afterwards fought at Borodino numbered 300,000 men, of
whom now only 120,000 remained, he might therefore well be apprehensive
that he would not have enough left to march upon Moscow, the point on
which everything seemed to depend. The victory which he had just
gained gave him nearly a certainty of taking that capital, for that the
Russians would be in a condition to fight a second battle within eight
days seemed in the highest degree improbable; and in Moscow he hoped to
find peace. No doubt the complete dispersion of the Russian Army
would have made this peace much more certain; but still the first
consideration was to get to Moscow, that is, to get there with a force
with which he should appear dictator over the capital, and through that
over the Empire and the Government. The force which he brought with him
to Moscow was no longer sufficient for that, as shown in the sequel, but
it would have been still less so if, in scattering the Russian Army, he
had scattered his own at the same time. Buonaparte was thoroughly alive
to all this, and in our eyes he stands completely justified. But on that
account this case is still not to be reckoned amongst those in which,
through the general relations, the General is interdicted from following
up his victory, for there never was in his case any question of mere
pursuit. The victory was decided at four o'clock in the afternoon, but
the Russians still occupied the greater part of the field of battle;
they were not yet disposed to give up the ground, and if the attack
had been renewed, they would still have offered a most determined
resistance, which would have undoubtedly ended in their complete defeat,
but would have cost the conqueror much further bloodshed. We must
therefore reckon the Battle of Borodino as amongst battles, like
Bautzen, left unfinished. At Bautzen the vanquished preferred to quit
the field sooner; at Borodino the conqueror preferred to content himself
with a half victory, not because the decision appeared doubtful, but
because he was not rich enough to pay for the whole.

Returning now to our subject, the deduction from our reflections in
relation to the first stage of pursuit is, that the energy thrown into
it chiefly determines the value of the victory; that this pursuit is a
second act of the victory, in many cases more important also than the
first, and that strategy, whilst here approaching tactics to receive
from it the harvest of success, exercises the first act of her authority
by demanding this completion of the victory.

But further, the effects of victory are very seldom found to stop with
this first pursuit; now first begins the real career to which victory
lent velocity. This course is conditioned as we have already said, by
other relations of which it is not yet time to speak. But we must here
mention, what there is of a general character in the pursuit in order to
avoid repetition when the subject occurs again.

In the further stages of pursuit, again, we can distinguish three
degrees: the simple pursuit, a hard pursuit, and a parallel march to
intercept.

The simple FOLLOWING or PURSUING causes the enemy to continue his
retreat, until he thinks he can risk another battle. It will therefore
in its effect suffice to exhaust the advantages gained, and besides
that, all that the enemy cannot carry with him, sick, wounded, and
disabled from fatigue, quantities of baggage, and carriages of all
kinds, will fall into our hands, but this mere following does not
tend to heighten the disorder in the enemy's Army, an effect which is
produced by the two following causes.

If, for instance, instead of contenting ourselves with taking up every
day the camp the enemy has just vacated, occupying just as much of the
country as he chooses to abandon, we make our arrangements so as
every day to encroach further, and accordingly with our advance-guard
organised for the purpose, attack his rear-guard every time it attempts
to halt, then such a course will hasten his retreat, and consequently
tend to increase his disorganisation.--This it will principally effect
by the character of continuous flight, which his retreat will thus
assume. Nothing has such a depressing influence on the soldier, as the
sound of the enemy's cannon afresh at the moment when, after a forced
march he seeks some rest; if this excitement is continued from day to
day for some time, it may lead to a complete rout. There lies in it a
constant admission of being obliged to obey the law of the enemy, and of
being unfit for any resistance, and the consciousness of this cannot do
otherwise than weaken the moral of an Army in a high degree. The effect
of pressing the enemy in this way attains a maximum when it drives
the enemy to make night marches. If the conqueror scares away the
discomfited opponent at sunset from a camp which has just been taken
up either for the main body of the Army, or for the rear-guard, the
conquered must either make a night march, or alter his position in
the night, retiring further away, which is much the same thing; the
victorious party can on the other hand pass the night in quiet.

The arrangement of marches, and the choice of positions depend in this
case also upon so many other things, especially on the supply of the
Army, on strong natural obstacles in the country, on large towns,
&c. &c., that it would be ridiculous pedantry to attempt to show by a
geometrical analysis how the pursuer, being able to impose his laws on
the retreating enemy, can compel him to march at night while he takes
his rest. But nevertheless it is true and practicable that marches
in pursuit may be so planned as to have this tendency, and that the
efficacy of the pursuit is very much enchanced thereby. If this is
seldom attended to in the execution, it is because such a procedure
is more difficult for the pursuing Army, than a regular adherence to
ordinary marches in the daytime. To start in good time in the morning,
to encamp at mid-day, to occupy the rest of the day in providing for the
ordinary wants of the Army, and to use the night for repose, is a
much more convenient method than to regulate one's movements exactly
according to those of the enemy, therefore to determine nothing till the
last moment, to start on the march, sometimes in the morning, sometimes
in the evening, to be always for several hours in the presence of the
enemy, and exchanging cannon shots with him, and keeping up skirmishing
fire, to plan manoeuvres to turn him, in short, to make the whole
outlay of tactical means which such a course renders necessary. All that
naturally bears with a heavy weight on the pursuing Army, and in War,
where there are so many burdens to be borne, men are always inclined
to strip off those which do not seem absolutely necessary. These
observations are true, whether applied to a whole Army or as in the more
usual case, to a strong advance-guard. For the reasons just mentioned,
this second method of pursuit, this continued pressing of the enemy
pursued is rather a rare occurrence; even Buonaparte in his Russian
campaign, 1812, practised it but little, for the reasons here apparent,
that the difficulties and hardships of this campaign, already threatened
his Army with destruction before it could reach its object; on the other
hand, the French in their other campaigns have distinguished themselves
by their energy in this point also.

Lastly, the third and most effectual form of pursuit is, the parallel
march to the immediate object of the retreat.

Every defeated Army will naturally have behind it, at a greater or less
distance, some point, the attainment of which is the first purpose in
view, whether it be that failing in this its further retreat might be
compromised, as in the case of a defile, or that it is important for
the point itself to reach it before the enemy, as in the case of a great
city, magazines, &c., or, lastly, that the Army at this point will gain
new powers of defence, such as a strong position, or junction with other
corps.

Now if the conqueror directs his march on this point by a lateral road,
it is evident how that may quicken the retreat of the beaten Army in a
destructive manner, convert it into hurry, perhaps into flight.(*) The
conquered has only three ways to counteract this: the first is to throw
himself in front of the enemy, in order by an unexpected attack to gain
that probability of success which is lost to him in general from his
position; this plainly supposes an enterprising bold General, and an
excellent Army, beaten but not utterly defeated; therefore, it can only
be employed by a beaten Army in very few cases.

(*) This point is exceptionally well treated by von
Bernhardi in his "Cavalry in Future Wars." London: Murray,
1906.

The second way is hastening the retreat; but this is just what the
conqueror wants, and it easily leads to immoderate efforts on the part
of the troops, by which enormous losses are sustained, in stragglers,
broken guns, and carriages of all kinds.

The third way is to make a detour, and get round the nearest point of
interception, to march with more ease at a greater distance from the
enemy, and thus to render the haste required less damaging. This
last way is the worst of all, it generally turns out like a new debt
contracted by an insolvent debtor, and leads to greater embarrassment.
There are cases in which this course is advisable; others where there is
nothing else left; also instances in which it has been successful;
but upon the whole it is certainly true that its adoption is usually
influenced less by a clear persuasion of its being the surest way of
attaining the aim than by another inadmissible motive--this motive is
the dread of encountering the enemy. Woe to the Commander who gives in
to this! However much the moral of his Army may have deteriorated, and
however well founded may be his apprehensions of being at a disadvantage
in any conflict with the enemy, the evil will only be made worse by too
anxiously avoiding every possible risk of collision. Buonaparte in 1813
would never have brought over the Rhine with him the 30,000 or 40,000
men who remained after the battle of Hanau,(*) if he had avoided that
battle and tried to pass the Rhine at Mannheim or Coblenz. It is just by
means of small combats carefully prepared and executed, and in which the
defeated army being on the defensive, has always the assistance of the
ground--it is just by these that the moral strength of the Army can
first be resuscitated.

(*) At Hanau (October 30, 1813), the Bavarians some 50,000
strong threw themselves across the line of Napoleon's
retreat from Leipsic. By a masterly use of its artillery the
French tore the Bavarians asunder and marched on over their
bodies.--EDITOR.

The beneficial effect of the smallest successes is incredible; but with
most Generals the adoption of this plan implies great self-command.
The other way, that of evading all encounter, appears at first so much
easier, that there is a natural preference for its adoption. It is
therefore usually just this system of evasion which best, promotes the
view of the pursuer, and often ends with the complete downfall of the
pursued; we must, however, recollect here that we are speaking of a
whole Army, not of a single Division, which, having been cut off,
is seeking to join the main Army by making a de'tour; in such a case
circumstances are different, and success is not uncommon. But there is
one condition requisite to the success of this race of two Corps for an
object, which is that a Division of the pursuing army should follow
by the same road which the pursued has taken, in order to pick up
stragglers, and keep up the impression which the presence of the enemy
never fails to make. Bluecher neglected this in his, in other respects
unexceptionable, pursuit after La Belle Alliance.

Such marches tell upon the pursuer as well as the pursued, and they
are not advisable if the enemy's Army rallies itself upon another
considerable one; if it has a distinguished General at its head, and if
its destruction is not already well prepared. But when this means can be
adopted, it acts also like a great mechanical power. The losses of the
beaten Army from sickness and fatigue are on such a disproportionate
scale, the spirit of the Army is so weakened and lowered by the constant
solicitude about impending ruin, that at last anything like a well
organised stand is out of the question; every day thousands of prisoners
fall into the enemy's hands without striking a blow. In such a season
of complete good fortune, the conqueror need not hesitate about dividing
his forces in order to draw into the vortex of destruction everything
within reach of his Army, to cut off detachments, to take fortresses
unprepared for defence, to occupy large towns, &c. &c. He may do
anything until a new state of things arises, and the more he ventures in
this way the longer will it be before that change will take place. There
is no want of examples of brilliant results from grand decisive
victories, and of great and vigorous pursuits in the wars of Buonaparte.
We need only quote Jena 1806, Ratisbonne 1809, Leipsic 1813, and Belle-
Alliance 1815.