Alpine Thunder:
The Battle of Zurich 1799

The Commanders

by Major Wilbur E. Gray, US Army

At this point one must necessarily shift away from the battle and turn to an examination of the commanders involved. In one of the strangest incidents in all military history, their greatly differing perceptions about the very nature of war would allow one an advantage that would almost insure victory. The victim can not be blamed, however, for he merely acted in a way in which his society had acknowledged as correct and proper.

The unfortunate commander in this case was Generalanchef A.M. Rimskii-Korsakov, the Russian commander of the Allied forces in the Swiss area of operations. Korsakov was 46 years old at the time of this momentous battle, and had a relatively distinguished military career. He had begun his service to the Russian crown as a cadet in the Preobrazhinski Guard Regiment, and at the age of 25 had been named the Lieutenant Colonel Commanding of the Tchernigov Musketeer Regiment. He served with distinction against the Ottoman Turks.

In 1794, he obtained permission to accompany Allied forces invading France, performing so well that he came to the personal attention of Czarina Catherine the Great. Further exemplary service against the Persians followed, and in 1797 he was named the Inspector General of Infantry. He was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant General in 1798, receiving his army command the next year. [5]

Korsakov's record does not betray the man as a military dunce. Nevertheless, there were other factors involved in his appointment by Paul 1. First, Korsakov openly supported the Czar's military reforms and agreed with Paul that the discipline and courage of the Russian soldier would overcome all obstacles. But in the second case, there was the strange consideration of music - yes, music. Korsakov, you see, came from a very musical family, one of its later members (Nikolai) gaining lasting fame as the composer of "Flight of the Bumblebee." Our present subject's contribution, however, was the composition of a slow march for the Czar's Semenovski Guard Regiment. It is said that Paul liked it so much that he played it over and over again. With such distinguished credentials, it seemed only logical to appoint Korsakov to a position of great responsibility. [6]

It thus happened that Korsakov took both his sword and his composer's desk to Zurich. There one eye witness noted, "Sometimes the French musicians came to play martial airs on the banks of the beautiful Limmat. Then the Cossacks would spring to their feet of their own accord, and dance and jump in circles."

The Russian Generalchef noticed the stirring music as well, and this was to be his downfall. [7]

It is little wonder. Korsakov, like most of the Russian officer corps, were products of a society that had at least partially embraced the European concepts of enlightenment. This historical era, which we know as the Age of Reason, was born as a direct result of a political, social and economic revolt against the chaos of the Thirty Years War.

As military activity represented one of European man's most important endeavors, it was only natural that the Age of Reason influence it as well. What this influence produced was, like the society it served, a military system determined to operate in such a manner as to keep human conflict under strict control and in as much a state of order as was practical. The chaos of the Thirty Years War depopulated nations, wrecked economies and nearly destroyed dynasties. Order in all things, to include warfare, was needed to insure that this did not happen again.

The warfare of Korsakov was thus one of a limited nature where the civilian population was avoided as much as possible, so that the agrarian economies of Europe might proceed undisturbed and the state might flourish. This necessitated the rise of professionally trained and disciplined armies that could subsist without the need for contact with civilians. Such armies were small due to the expense of maintaining them, and moved slowly due to the amount of baggage they had to carry.

And as such military establishments represented a considerable investment to the monarchy, they were rarely committed unless victory was absolutely assured. It is no wonder that France's great Marshal Maurice de Saxe wrote, "I do not favor pitched battles, especially at the beginning of war, and I am convinced that a skilful general could make war all his life without being forced into one." It is also little wonder that such thinking created a style of warfare based on movement and position, assuring the maintenance of the political, social and economic status quo. Order and control had triumphed over chaos. [8]

Obviously, such military doctrine could not flourish unless specific rules, both legal and traditional, were created to govern its conduct - always with the idea of maintaining control and order. Such strictures manifested themselves in many ways, to include the still relevant Laws of Land Warfare, and what historian Christopher Duffy refers to as the "cult of honour."

One can name numerous examples throughout this period of proper battlefield behavior. There is, of course, the famous story of the British commander offering the French Guards the honor of the first volley at Fontenoy in 1745. While that story may be pure concoction, other tales are definitely not. The same battle, for example, saw a French officer post a guard over a wounded English colonel, even offering him his purse to ensure proper care.

Frederick the Great was know to have "chewed out" one of his own Jaeger, who was wounded and lying in ambush for the next enemy epaulet that happened to stroll by. "Old Fritz" blasted the disgraceful fellow and demanded that he stand up and "fight like a Prussian." Frederick would have been pleased to know that on at least one occasion, the French returned the favor.

Before the battle of Rosbach (1757), one French officer reported to the Due de Crillon that the Prussian king was within musket shot and asked for a marksman to eliminate him. "Crillon handed his loyal Brunet a glass of wine, and sent him back to his post, remarking that he and his comrades had been put there to observe whether the bridge was burning properly, and not to kill a general who was making a reconnaissance, let alone the sacred person of a king, which must always be held in reverence." It was a time when fortress garrisons were normally afforded the honors of war after a courageous defense, and where the pursuit of a broken enemy was considered in poor form. It was, after all, the great Frederick who responded to a proposal for immediate pursuit with the reply, "Yes, you are quite right, but I don't want to defeat them too badly." [9]

But if this was the military culture of Korsakov, it most definitely was not that of General Massena. Born the son of a poor winegrower in 1756, he enlisted in a French light infantry battalion in 1775, rising through the ranks to sergeant-major in 1784. He retired in 1789 and became a most effective smuggler and merchant. He volunteered for military service to the Republic in 1792 and his talents soon made him a major general in 1793.

In 1798 he became the commander of the French Army of Rome, taking the reigns of the Army of the Danube the next year. He was the type of general who could enforce an iron discipline, and yet plunder a province with the blink of an eye. He hated to read, so could not plan a campaign, but was incredibly resourceful in the face of the enemy. He was a "general by instinct," and it was none other than the Duke of Wellington who swore that he never slept comfortably while Massena was in the field. In short he was the perfect French Revolutionary general. [10]

Like Korsakov he was also a product of his culture. But his society was one that rejected warfare as a means to simply rearrange a few boundaries while retaining societal order. To the young French Republic war was the legitimate means to survival through the destruction of the absolutist nations of Europe that threatened it. War was an instrument by which the current political order would be overthrown and replaced with one built on the Revolutionary tenants of "liberty, equality and brotherhood." Only then would the French Republic be safe. These beliefs required a type of warfare that was designed to totally destroy the enemy. It was a type of warfare that required generals to win big and to win at all costs.

It accepted that nearly anything in war was legitimate, so long as victory was the ultimate end. In the words of the famous "Organizer of Victory," French War Minister Lazare Nicolas Carnot,"Act in mass formation and take the offensive. Join action with the bayonet on every occasion. Give battle on a large and pursue the enemy until he utterly destroyed." This was hardly the gentlemanly conduct to which Korsakov, or any other Allied officer was accustomed. [11]

Given such diametrically opposed views about warfare, what happened next around the steep, rolling hills of Zurich suddenly begins to make a little more sense. Historian John R. Elting recalled,

There was a momentary semi-truce around the Swiss city of Zurich in 1799. East of the Lake of Zurich and its northern tributary, the Limmat River, an Austro- Russian army was readying for an attack to be launched as soon as the victorious Suvorov's army came up out of Italy through St Gotthard Pass into the French rear. To the west was Massena, coiling to strike first.

Meanwhile, Austrian and Russian officers tried to amuse themselves with parties and balls, but such affairs went limpingly for lack of proper musical accompaniment. Austrian bandsman somehow lacked the necessary gentletouch; as for their Russian colleagues, it is my uncharitable guess (founded on personal observation two and a half centuries later) that it had proved impossible to keep them out of the punchbowl.

From behind the French lines came the sounds of several fine bands, tooting with skill and zest.

In the lightest spirit of eighteenth-century warfare, the Allies requested the occasional loan of some of those French musicians, if General Massena would be so obliging. Dour Andrd Massena was a man who would have opportunity into his bedroom before the average general began to wonder if there were an unusual noise at his front door. He obliged. If some of the French bandsman he graciously provided occasionally peered around the comers of their sheet music, the Allies assumed they were simply ogling the fair ladies swirling past them and not noting what regimental uniforms their partners wore. [12]

One will never know how much influence such musical intelligence made on the thinking of "dour" Andre Massena, but his attack on the Allies remains to this day an achievement of planning and surprise. It was a battle launched with perfect timing as Suvorov had not yet arrived and most of Korsakov's Austrian allies had just departed the area to move north towards the forces of Archduke Charles. One can only wonder whether this was a matter of good fortune, or whether a lack of Austrian uniforms at a military ball became a decisive factor. Regardless, the time was now 0400 hours, 25 September 1799, and the destruction of Korsakov's army, not to mention the concept of warfare it represented, was close at hand.

Alpine Thunder The Battle of Zurich 1799

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