Editor’s Note: This Introduction is designed to accompany the original translation of Clausewitz’s essay, “On Art and the Theory of Art,” also by Olivia Garard, and published by Classics of Strategy and Diplomacy in English for the first time (to our knowledge).
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“I cannot begin this Artikel without smiling to myself,” wrote Carl von Clausewitz to his love, Marie, on April 28, 1807.[1] What subject brought such joy to Carl? Art, and his discourse about it with Marie. In a prior letter, Marie had encouraged Carl to visit museums and to soak up the art in them, especially Raphael’s work.[2] At the time, Clausewitz was a prisoner of war, having been captured after the catastrophic 1806 Prussian defeat at the battles of Jena and Auerstedt. As adjutant to Prince August, who was entitled to certain aristocratic privileges, Clausewitz maintained considerable mobility to travel throughout France, albeit according to the dictates of Prince August’s whims.[3] These travels included several trips to Paris, where Clausewitz experienced French theater and visited an overwhelming amount of museums. In a separate letter, Clausewitz described the artistic sensory overload he experienced and the eventual dulled sensations that resulted: “How should it be possible to grasp such a large amount of impressions and to absorb them into our innermost being in such a short time; one [impression] just simply supplants the next.”[4] Though overcome by paintings at the time, by the time he was writing On War, Clausewitz managed to recreate a similar experience in Book One, chapter four, “On Danger in War.”[5] In the midst of battle, the senses are heightened, seduced—and overwhelmed.
Through his discussions with Marie, and after his experience in France, art and his thoughts about it saturate Clausewitz’s work. Clausewitz was interested in aesthetics—art, the artist, genius, and the theory of art. His undated work, “Über Kunst und Kunsttheorie,” translated here as “On Art and the Theory of Art,” is one such example of this interest. W. M. Schering, who compiled Geist und Tat, the work from which the original is taken, does not date it.[6] Although Peter Paret, in his excellent Clausewitz and the States, also leaves the essay undated, he does disagree with Hans Rothfels, who surmised that it was written in the 1820s.[7] Paret suggests that given the extensive discussion on the relationship between purpose (Zweck) and means (Mittel), it must have been written earlier.[8] At the very least, considering the reference to Raphael—“Where would one want, for example, to put the dividing line of that enormous step ladder, which begins with Raphael and ends with the beer-sign painter”—we know that this essay was composed after his 1807 trip to Paris, and certainly after further study of, and discussions about, art with Marie.
“On Art and the Theory of Art,” like On War, is a philosophical text. And like On War, it bears Kantian influences. This is not to suggest that the Clausewitzian project is Kantian. (As a teacher of mine once quipped, only Kant can be Kantian.) Moreover, Clausewitz is not interested in the ideas of freedom, the immortal soul, God, and the claims one can make about such subjects. Rather, Kantian philosophical techniques, rhetorical moves, and logical language saturate both works. If I had to hazard a guess, besides the known introduction to Kant provided by Kiesewetter, I imagine that Clausewitz was familiar with (if not had skimmed or read) Kant’s Introduction to Logic, Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View, and his Critique of Judgment, because they rhyme in many ways with Clausewitz’s work and style. For instance, Kant’s Introduction to Logic provides the philosophical language, his Anthropology evokes the style and method of Book One’s chapter three “On Martial Genius” in On War, and the importance of judgment, coupled with the relationship between purposes and means, found in both On War and the text below, speak to the Critique of Judgment.[9] Regardless of where Clausewitz recovered these ideas, as Paret aptly notes: “although war was not an art, aesthetic theory had something to say about the possibilities of any theory of action.”[10] Let’s take a deeper look to see what such a statement might mean.
“On Art and the Theory of Art” is a rigorous investigation exploring the differences between art and science; the possibility of art theory; the necessity of practice and talent; the possibility of any laws or rules of art; and the difficulty of exceptions to these rules or laws, among other topics. It is a deep meditation on the relationship between purposes (Zweck) and means (Mittel), which is also the title of On War Book One, chapter two. Art requires judgment, one of the most important mental capabilities of the commander, while science—in the broad 19th century philosophical sense—requires cognition. We see the fruits of this intellectual interrogation in Book Two, chapter three, “Art of War or Science of War,” wherein Clausewitz distinguishes not only between the art and the science of war, but declares that war is neither—it is social. Nevertheless, theory must still serve the art of war as depiction by way of conception—in other words, theory is intended to help one think about war. It is a set of conceptions that enable the practice of developing one’s innate capability. This is further emphasized towards the end of On War Book Two, chapter two, “On the Theory of War,” where Clausewitz sketches out the possibility of a theory of war, the fruits of which he lays out at the end of Book One, chapter one, section 28, “Result for Theory,” colloquially referred to as “the section on the trinity.”
We also see the roots of On War Book Two, chapter four on “Methodism,” which is in many ways Clausewitz’s section on defining terms, while also articulating his position with respect to a theory of action. We even find, in my opinion, his one sentence summaries of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason (“As a subject of cognition, law is the relation of things and their effects to one another”) and Critique of Practical Reason (“as a subject of the will, it [law] is a determination of action, and is then equivalent to command or prohibition.”).[11] There are two uses of law in the essay below. First, “A law is, first of all, a regulation of action, that is to say a determination of the use of available means for a predetermined purpose.” Second, we see law as “established in theory in order to depict concentrated the result of continual contemplation, the last proposition of a whole series of conclusions,” which if true, means we should pay more attention to On War Book Three, chapter eighteen “Tension and Rest,” which is headed by the claim to describe “The Dynamic Law of War.”[12]
One of the key problems for any system that purports to leverage laws or rules is the question of when to apply them and how to determine when and where they fit—the law of laws so to speak. As Clausewitz notes, we must “establish laws without naming the conditions upon which they rest, and it is left to the power of judgment to seek out the cases for which they fit.” Thus, the power of judgment is essential. On War is an attempt to teach the theory—the mental infrastructure—that complements habitual practice and hard-won experience for those who fight. Judgment must be practiced.[13] This is also what distinguishes the Clausewitzian Genie (and Genius) from the Kantian Genie.[14] In Kant’s Critique of Judgment, “Genie is the talent (natural endowment) that gives the rule to art.”[15] A Kantian Genie must be original, exemplary, and spontaneous, through which Nature delineates the rules of the art itself. According to On War, Genius, “genius,” is a historical determination based on someone’s distinguished actions, while Genie, what I translate below as “whiz,” is “a very superior mental capacity for certain activities.”[16]A Clausewitzian commander with some innate Genie, held not to the Kantian standard, must be teachable. If not, a country’s defense falls prey to whether or not a certain individual was born with the requisite talent, was then identified and trained, and later decided to fight and lead.[17] Talent is required, as Clausewitz notes, but it is “an innate capability that is developed through free will.” Clausewitz spends the rest of Book One, chapter three delineating just what those mental capacities are, from whom they emerge, and how they maintain a harmonious relationship, which is the essence of genius.[18] Moreover, Clausewitz lampoons the Kantian position and the failure of Jomini and Bülow to account for a kind of war-whiz in Book Two, chapter two, “which raises itself above all rules.”[19] Rather, theory must account for those who war better than others.
Clausewitz is also speaking to the limits of doctrine, a kind of regulation and “beaten road,” and the contingency of “it depends.” Art laws, like the stars for celestial navigation, serve as a place wherein which one trusts to guide, but such navigation only works if one knows how to recognize which stars are which, and has been trained to apply and follow their guidance. The direction exists out there, but it relies on one’s ability to apply and follow it—talent and practice. This same judgment is necessary to connect purposes and means with one another, to do art. Thus, the theory of art teaches how to create these connections. This conceptual relationship holds for the sergeant looking to apply mortars (means) to suppress an adversary’s movement (purpose) as for the commander looking to retake a bridge (purpose) with a brigade (means), or the head of state looking to reestablish sovereignty (purpose) with whatever is available (means). A theory of art seeks to teach the ability to create connections between purposes and means. One could say a theory of art, by Clausewitz’s definition, seeks to develop strategic thinking.
Lastly, a note on translation. As this is a philosophical text, I have attempted to maintain terminological consistency to the extent it makes sense. Words matter, and Clausewitz chooses them deliberately. I have also translated in line with Kantian diction, except when it is too cumbersome. As mentioned above, Clausewitz is of the Kantian milieu, while by no means its heir apparent. I have consulted the French translation by Marie-Louise Steinhauser found in De la Révolution à la Restauration.[20] I also employed google translate like a third translation composed of micro-sections. Sometimes google translate was excellent, other times it was terrible. Like the numbers that a calculator spit out, it requires judgment to determine what is helpful and what is not. Finally, I must thank my German tutor Martin for his patience and for Vanya Bellinger who read the translation over and helped me steady myself on my still-wobbly German translating legs. As always, any remaining errors are mine.
Olivia Garard is a student at St. John’s College. She tweets at @teaandtactics.
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NOTES
[1] Carl to Marie, April 28, 1807, Karl Linnebach, Karl und Marie von Clausewitz: Ein Lebensbild in Briefen und Tagebuchblättern (Berlin: Verlag von Martin Warneck, 1925), 113.
[2] Vanya Eftimova Bellinger, Marie von Clausewitz: The Woman Behind the Making of On War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 79.
[3] Most interestingly, while waiting for their passports to return to Prussia, Clausewitz and Prince August spent six weeks with Germaine de Staël in her Coppet salon in Switzerland. Showtime, Starz, or HBO needs to get on this story as it is a veritable Napoleonic-Downton-Abbey-cum-Real-Housewives-of-Continental-Europe. See J. Christopher Herold’s magisterial Mistress to an Age: A Life of Madame de Staël. A tease: part of the reason that Clausewitz and Prince August spent six weeks in Coppet is that Prince August was smitten with Juliette Récamier, whom Clausewitz described as “a very vulgar coquette.” (Carl to Marie, August 16, 1807, Linnebach, 132). Despite being married, she was the it-girl of post-revolutionary France. Prince August and Juliette’s flirtations continued to the point where each proclaimed their love for the other. It was even possible, so Prince August hoped, that she would leave her husband for him. Juliette gave him her ring and they made plans to meet back up, but when Prince August arrived at their arranged meeting place, he saw that she had only sent her portrait. After that 19th century burn, Prince August was distraught for the rest of his life. Oh the drama! See also Roger Parkinson’s Clausewitz: A Biography, 89-93.
[4] Carl to Marie, March 29, 1807, Linnebach, qtd. in Sibylle Scheipers, “‘Do not despair at your fate’: Carl von Clausewitz in French Captivity, 1806-1807,” War in History, Online First, https://doi.org/10.1177/098344518804840.
[5] Anders Engberg-Pedersen, Empire of Chance: The Napoleonic Wars and the Disorder of Things (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015), 142.
[6] Carl von Clausewitz, Geist und Tat: Das Vermächtnis des Soldaten und Denkers (Stuttgart: Alfred Kröner Verlag, 1942), 153-166. It is also online, without the fraktur, https://www.projekt-gutenberg.org/clausewz/klschrif/chap020.html.
[7] Peter Paret, Clausewitz and the State: The Man, His Theories, and His Times (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), 162-165. Paret’s excerpts are the only other English translation of the work that I could find.
[8] Paret, Clausewitz and the State, 163n31.
[9] Raymond Aron in his Penser la guerre dismisses the Kantian connection and furthermore dismisses, in particular, Kant’s Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View. (Raymond Aron, Penser la guerre, Clausewitz: 1. L’âge européen (Paris: Gallimard, 1976), 436-437, 445. To the first, I believe he is arguing against a strong Kantian reading—freedom, immortal soul, and God—with which I would agree. Aristotle is not Platonic, but his work needs to be seen in light of it, likewise with Clausewitz and Kant. Furthermore, Aron dismisses the Anthropology because the discussion on the four humors is not specific enough to Kant. While true, the structure of “On Martial Genius” is far too similar to ignore. It focuses on defining characteristics in much the same way, it uses both Genie and Genius, about which Kant interrogates as to why there is a difference, and in a later chapter (Book Three, chapter six, “On Boldness,”) Clausewitz cites the same Voltaire quote from La Henriade, although, it must be noted, in Clausewitz’s quote in On War, he is missing one word. See Carl von Clausewitz, tr. O. J. Matthijs Jolles (Washington, Combat Forces Press, 1953), 133, Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege, 18th ed., ed. Werner Hahlweg, 18th (Bonn, Dümmler Verlag, 1972), 368, and Immanuel Kant, Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View, tr. and ed. Robert B. Louden (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 92.
[10] Paret, Clausewitz and the State, 162.
[11] Clausewitz, tr. Jolles, 87. Clausewitz, Vom Kriege, 305.
[12] Clausewitz, tr. Jolles, 166-168. Clausewitz, Vom Kriege, 414.
[13] The importance of war games for the practice of judgment can be seen further in Engberg-Pedersen’s Empires of Chance and Philipp von Hilgers War Games: A History of War on Paper, tr. Ross Benjamin (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2012).
[14] It is important to observe that Clausewitz uses two different words in On War to capture different aspects of martial virtuosity. First, Genius, which is found in the title of On War Book One, chapter three, “On Martial Genius,” is concerned with the historical manifestation of martial excellence. This is contrasted with Genie, which he uses more often than Genius. Found in both On War Book One, chapter three and Book Two, chapter two, Genie hones in on the particular mental capacity necessary for such genius-like action.
[15] Immanuel Kant, Critique of Judgment, tr. Werner S. Pluhar (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1987), 174. Immanuel Kant, Kritik der Urteilskraft (Stuttgart: Reclams Universal-Bibliothek, 2022), 235
[16] Clausewitz, tr. Jolles, 31. Clausewitz, Vom Kriege, 231.
[17] This is also why I believe Clausewitz is less Hegelian, because deferring to the spirit of the age negates a kind of egalitarian potential for defense that seems to be implicit in his text. In other words, he is writing for the weaker side, the underdog. If might always made right, then Clausewitz is irrelevant—much of this derives from his important, challenging view that the defense is the stronger form of warfare.
[18] The idea of the harmony of mental capacities, especially with respect to judgment, is again Kantian in flavor, but not in execution.
[19] Clausewitz, tr. Jolles, 71. Clausewitz, Vom Kriege, 283.
[20] Carl von Clausewitz, “Considérations sur l’Art,” De la Révolution à la Restauration : Écrits et lettres, tr. Marie-Louise Steinhauser (Paris : Gallimard, 1976), 124-134.