BATTLE TACTICS AND CAMPAIGN STRATEGY

Accounts of military developments and events of the period 1450–1780 leave confusion about how these centuries should be interpreted. Was this a period of decisive or indecisive warfare? Was it shaped by pitched battles or by protracted maneuvers punctuated by interminable sieges? Were armies effective instruments of state power and ambition, or clumsy and unreliable consortia of private interests?

A crude model of military development views this period as characterized by the successive domination and decline of armored cavalry, massed infantry armed with pikes and cutting weapons, and infantry equipped with firearms and deployed in linear formations supported by more effective artillery. According to this interpretation, military decisiveness resulted from the mismatch between a fighting force making use of outmoded techniques and one employing newer tactics or weaponry. Thus the annihilation of the Burgundian heavy cavalry at the battles of Grandson, Morat, and Nancy in 1476–1477 inaugurated the era of the pike square as a battle-winning tactic. But in turn the battles of the early sixteenth century in Italy indicated another mismatch, this time the result of improvements in firearms and their deployment. The success of infantry armed with harquebuses or muskets, supported by blocks of pikemen, consolidated the supremacy of the defensive. A period of military stagnation is then taken to follow, lasting through most of the sixteenth century. Although innovations linked to notions of a "military revolution," particularly those identified with the Swedish army, seemed to combine enhanced firepower with successful assault tactics, this was no permanent solution, and commanders continued to avoid battles, with their likelihood of indecisive and costly outcomes. Instead, conflict was increasingly characterized by sieges, in which numerical superiority and grinding attrition could at least yield up a visible outcome in the form of a city or fortress captured. Thereafter, apart from the occasional meteoric figure combining generalship and tactical creativity—an Henri de La Tour d'Auvergne de Turenne (1611–1675); a John Churchill, duke of Marlborough (1650–1711); or a Prince Eugene of Savoy (1663–1736)—the pattern was set for the remainder of the period. The most significant military development of Louis XIV's personal reign (1661–1715) was Marshal Sébastien Le Prestre de Vauban's construction of the pré carré, the massive series of fortifications along France's eastern frontier. Only commanders confident of greatly superior numbers or desperate in the face of territorial occupation (Frederick II of Prussia during the Seven Years' War, 1756–1763, for example), or confronted by an imminent political-strategic crisis would be prepared to hazard battle.

Such an account simplifies a more complex reality. If the defeat of the Burgundian chivalry in 1476–1477 raised the prestige of the Swiss pikesquare to unprecedented heights, it did not bring to an end the importance of heavy cavalry on the battlefield. A massed cavalry charge still represented a fearsome prospect to all but the most hardened of veteran infantry. Warfare in eastern Europe, which put far greater premiums on mobility and surprise, continued to be dominated by the use of massed cavalry in battle. Polish victories at Kirchholm (1605) and Honigfelde (1629) against Swedish armies were a clear vindication of traditional cavalry tactics. More generally, the combination of cavalry and artillery was recognized as one of the few ways to break infantry formations. The cavalry's use of firearms, mostly flintlock pistols, has been treated as a tactical wrong turn, depriving them of their one real asset, mass and momentum. Yet pistoleer tactics transformed the most common form of cavalry combat, an engagement with other cavalry. The superiority of medium-weight cavalry armed with pistols against traditional heavily armored lancers had two important consequences. Expensive heavy cavalry was increasingly replaced by more numerous medium and light horsemen in armies of the later sixteenth century, while lighter cavalry troopers enjoyed improved range and maneuverability. When the infantry centers of two armies on the battlefield fought each other to a standstill, a decisive opportunity went to the commander whose cavalry could break the opposing horse on the wings, regroup, and then advance against the flank or rear of the infantry center. Rocroi (1643) provided an example of this maneuver, triumphantly achieved by the French cavalry, turning the battle decisively against the Spanish.

Changing technology and organization led to a more complex interplay of different types of troops and forced commanders to be alert to ways of deploying and combining their forces. While infantry firepower could not be ignored, neither could emphasis on mass and cohesion. Far from leading to an immediate thinning out of infantry lines and a reduction in the size of units, wider use of firearms was followed by numerous experiments seeking ways to deploy more firepower without sacrificing the weight and strength that came from large, independent units. The most successful trade-off in the seventeenth century was probably the Spanish tercio, an infantry unit that started at three thousand men but was progressively reduced to around half that size by the 1620s.

Commanders were aware of the potential of artillery, though the practical problems of its use for most of the period before 1660 were immense. The majority of cannon, interchangeable from siege use, fired shot weighing six pounds or above. Such guns, especially if made of cast iron, were heavy, often poorly mounted, and cumbersome. Ensuring supplies of munitions was a constant problem, as was maintaining adequate teams of draft animals. Reckless disregard for carefully prepared artillery positions, especially those that would allow cannon to enfilade the flanks of an infantry or cavalry advance, could prove costly. But most commanders would be reluctant to order their troops to assault such carefully prepared positions, just as they would seek to avoid storming a well-defended set of fortifications. The use of smaller, lighter cannon was attempted, notably by Gustavus II Adolphus of Sweden, who experimented with three-pounder guns in the 1620s. But the lighter shot sacrificed both accuracy and penetrative power. The Swedes sought to compensate by increasing the number of cannon; in 1639 a typical Swedish campaign army of eighteen thousand men included eighty guns. But other states proved reluctant to trade heavier, less maneuverable guns for this Swedish-style light artillery, and the post-1660 period vindicated the use of field artillery firing heavier shot. Even in the conduct of sieges artillery bombardment rarely proved to be the decisive factor in forcing a capitulation. If fortifications were taken by gunpowder, it was as likely to be the result of a successfully laid mine as of a bombardment. Much more often the besieged would capitulate with the walls intact because of shortage of supplies or recognition that relief would not arrive.

FACTORS IN MILITARY SUCCESS

This complex reality did not preclude the possibility of decisive success in battle. It would be hard to imagine a more conclusive encounter than Pavia in 1525, which led to the capture of the French king, Francis I, and destroyed his army. Reasons for success are those common to most periods: numerical superiority at key points and moments on the field, tactical surprise, and the ability to persuade an enemy to assault forces in carefully prepared positions. The number and quality of experienced troops serving in a campaign force and their esprit de corps were significant factors. Commanders who could show leadership in the face of hardships and setbacks could be important, as were those, like the Spanish commanders Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba (1453–1515) and Alessandro Farnese, duke of Parma (1545–1592), who possessed a sophisticated grasp of how best to combine the different troops and weaponry at their disposal.

A much greater problem was how to translate success in a specific battle, or even an entire campaign, into a favorable settlement to a war. The single greatest obstacle to capitalizing on tactical success throughout the early modern period was logistical. Systems for supplying early modern armies fell far short of the capacity to raise troops. Supply was almost entirely organized through private contractors down to and beyond 1650. These contractors agreed to provision armies in return for haphazard reimbursement from the state. Even if an early modern government proved able to meet its obligations to the contractors, the latter would almost inevitably fail to fulfill their side of the bargain. Supply contracts were rarely calculated with precision: grain prices were unstable; costings for adequate transport facilities, replacement draught animals, enough teamsters, bakers, and ancillary staff were never realistic. Roads were primitive or nonexistent; water was a better and cheaper transport option, but the movement of armies would be severely constrained if they had to be supplied from rivers or waterways. Transportation of bulk supplies was slow, lagging behind the main elements of the army, and the entire force would need to stop one day in four or five to allow the supply convoy to catch up and to give the attached millers and bakers the opportunity to turn grain into bread rations. This would not be sufficient in most circumstances to bring about either a decisive advance to the center of a state or threaten the possibility of occupation with overwhelming force. During the sixteenth century the most awe-inspiring aspect of the Ottoman armies was not their vast size or the training and commitment of their elite troops, but Ottoman logistics, incomparably more advanced and more capable of supporting the rapid movement of the armies than anything in Christian Europe. Yet even at the height of its power, with the 1529 advance into the Habsburg lands, the Ottoman army only reached Vienna at the end of September, and it fell back in disorder during late October. What the Ottomans could not achieve was certainly beyond the capacity of other European forces.

Theorists examining logistical systems for the support of armies have consistently contrasted supply via magazines and convoys with the flexibility of "living off the land"—with rapidly moving forces, able to acquire the food and forage they needed by requisitioning or pillage. Here again, the early modern army was handicapped. Throughout most of Europe armies operated amid relatively low densities of population, sustained by primitive, low-yield agriculture. Armies could be self-sustaining, but only if they spread themselves out thinly over substantial territories. A concentrated advance into territory where supply potential was not assured or had been deliberately destroyed would be suicidal for military effectiveness.

Some wars were won rapidly in this period despite this apparently insuperable problem of supply. When the armies of Philip II invaded Portugal in support of his claim to the Portuguese throne in 1580, the resources of the great Spanish monarchy were thrown into a struggle with a small independent state, and one whose army had been destroyed two years before in the quixotic crusade that had also left the young King Sebastian dead on the Moroccan battlefield of El-Ksar-el-Kebir. In 1643 the Swedish war machine was turned against Denmark, whose army had been humiliated by imperial and Bavarian forces in the 1620s. In two campaigns the Swedes crushed Danish forces and imposed a harsh peace at Brömsebro (1645). In other cases, the military forces may have been more evenly matched, but one power was already in political disarray and military defeat served as a catalyst for disintegration. The collapse of the Bohemian rebellion against their Habsburg monarch followed the Battle of White Mountain in 1620. The forces engaged in the battle were more evenly matched than is frequently assumed, but the defeat of the Protestants provoked the collapse of a regime in which political tensions and fault lines were everywhere apparent.

If some wars were won as the result of a decisive military encounter acting upon a state with a weakened political structure, others were finally resolved by attrition. One option, favored by belligerents in the Thirty Years' War, was simple territorial occupation. An army that could establish itself on enemy territory, even if it could not concentrate its resources for a knockout blow, could raise the stakes for continuing a war to an unacceptable level. Swedish forces devastated occupied Bavaria in 1646 and 1648 in successful bids to force Duke Maximilian I out of the Thirty Years' War. Another possibility for extracting a settlement was linked to siege warfare. The resistance of most besieged cities reflected garrisons' calculations about the chances of being relieved. A power that could combine sieges with a clear-cut military superiority in the field might provoke an avalanche of capitulations, leading an opponent to a rapid reevaluation of the struggle. The duke of Parma's advance into the Netherlands after 1578 produced waves of surrenders of cities and brought the Dutch rebels to the point of capitulation by the later 1580s, from which they were only saved by Spain's shift in military and political priorities.

CHANGES AND CONTINUITIES AFTER 1660

Lessons from the examples above indicate that small wars were more likely to produce decisive results than the extended, campaign-after-campaign struggles like the Italian Wars of the first half of the sixteenth century or the Thirty Years' War; predictably, wars that pitched territories with a significant disparity of military resources against each other were also likely to produce clear-cut outcomes. One of the problems of great power struggles down to 1650 was that the scale of military engagements was dwarfed by the available human and material resources of the states. The "cutting edge" of armies, the proportion of troops likely to be drawn into battle, was relatively small in comparison with the total military establishment and minuscule in proportion to the overall size of the population of the belligerent state. When a major campaign army totaled perhaps fifteen thousand men, then even the most annihilating defeat in battle would not strain the wider military resources of the state to the breaking point. The loss of experienced veterans could be more serious, but even this does not appear to have impeded most major states from continuing a struggle.

From the later seventeenth century, overall military establishments increased exponentially, and the average size of individual campaign armies also doubled, tripled, or even quadrupled. Losing a battle had a much greater impact on the overall military establishment; and more importantly, because these establishments now represented a significant proportion of the adult male population of even a major state, the losses were far harder to make good. The most telling example of this is provided by Brandenburg-Prussia in the wars of the mid-eighteenth century. A state with a population of perhaps 3.5 million was trying to sustain a permanent army of 80,000 troops, increased to 140,000 or more during the Seven Years' War, some 25 percent of all adult males. Heavy losses of dead, wounded, and prisoners were simply unsustainable by a state of this size engaged in military activity on this scale.

If armies were substantially larger in proportion to the populations, then losses were compounded by tactical and technological developments that were making battles and sieges considerably more lethal. Changes in infantry firearms—to the flintlock musket with an attached ring bayonet—considerably increased the impact of firepower on the battlefield itself, as well as the casualties likely to be suffered by both attackers and defenders, victors and defeated. Developments in artillery added to this lethal transformation. Gun crews were better trained and the mobility of artillery steadily increased. Above all, there was a massive proliferation in the number of guns deployed on the battlefield; the Prussian and Austrian armies of the Seven Years' War were maintaining artillery trains of three to four hundred cannon.

The result of these developments in killing power became evident from early in the eighteenth century. At Malplaquet in 1709 the victorious allied army suffered losses of around twenty thousand from an army of eighty-five thousand, while a year earlier at the siege of the city and citadel of Lille, the besieging allies had suffered fourteen thousand casualties. When losses on this scale were sustained by a defeated power whose resources were overstretched, the results were catastrophic; the defeat of the Swedish army by the Russians of Peter the Great at Poltava (1709) was followed by Russian conquest of Sweden's gravely weakened eastern Baltic territories.

Yet even in this environment, it is noteworthy that the upward curve of military commitment and casualties still did not always produce the seemingly inevitable result for a state locked in struggle with a greater power or a more numerous coalition. If the "miracle of the House of Brandenburg" in the eighteenth century is the paradigm of survival against the odds, no less striking was the ability of France to hold out for a favorable peace in the War of the Spanish Succession after the allied victories down to 1709 had seemingly brought the monarchy to the breaking point. In part these outcomes reflected chance and circumstance; the obvious point about all military coalitions is the fragility of the interests that bind them together, and both France and Prussia were ultimately saved by divisions among their enemies. Yet behind the diplomatic rifts and divisions it is possible to detect the perennial problems of logistics, slow-moving troops, and short campaign seasons. A few eighteenth-century armies provide cases in which the normal constraints were overturned: Marlborough's march from the Spanish Netherlands down into Bavaria in 1704, keeping his army intact, well-supplied, and capable of winning a crushing victory over the Franco-Bavarian forces at Blenheim, provides a notable example of how efficient stockpiling and a commissariat with plenty of cash in hand to buy local provisions could overcome the risks of a long march into hostile territory. Two years later, Marlborough's victory at Ramillies, fought at the outset of the campaign, allowed him to drive the French out of the Spanish Netherlands before the end of 1706.

Yet for the most part slow-moving armies, commanded by generals who remained exceptionally—and probably correctly—nervous about supplying their men from requisitioning in the field, faced immense obstacles to gaining outright military success. Sophisticated fortifications proliferated throughout the century from 1660 to 1760, threatening supply lines and communications of armies attempting to bypass them. But a lengthy series of sieges was the surest way of slowing any military advance until the approaching end of the campaign offered the possibility of regrouping the defense. Any lengthy siege exacted a heavy cost on the besieging forces, destroying their capacity to return to effective campaigning in the field. Thus although wars exacted a heavy toll on armies from the 1690s onwards, it is far from clear that this resulted in more decisive resolutions to conflict, or that wars in general became a more effective method of resolving political competition.

See also Absolutism ; Engineering: Military ; Firearms .

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David Parrott