Famous Football Formation of Late Nineties Inspired by Bonaparte

On last Saturday afternoon, Coach Horween defeated a team using a six man line defense, and proved that against a good offense the principle of the roving center is useless, recalling a play worked out by W. H. Lewis '95 in 1898 to oppose the previously irresistible "guards back" formation.

The following article, reprinted from the "Boston Herald", tells how Lewis devised this defense, aided by Napoleon's strategy.

If you look on page 410 of the "H Book of Harvard Athletics," you will find the simple statement. "Harvard won the Pennsylvania game this year, 1898, 10 to 0, largely because W. H. Lewis, centre on our '92 and '93 teams, had worked out an effective defense to the 'guards back attack." Thus reads the brief recapitulation of an outstanding triumph.

For one of the most popular questions for wager or debate in the late nineties was, "Can any outfit stop the Pennsylvania 'guards back'?" And the sons of the same pessimistic gentlemen who offered to eat the first steamboat that ever crossed the Atlantic invariably answered, "It can't be done!" In other words, the general verdict was that when an irresistible force met an immovable object, the object stopped being immovable, and that was doubtless a part of Mr. Woodruff's philosophy when he engineered the inception of the smashing drive that no line seemed able to withstand.

His judgment seems to have been justified, to express the matter mildly. In 1897 his team beat Harvard, Cornell, Carlisle, Wesleyan, Brown, Lafayette, Pennsylvania State, Dartmouth, Virginia, Lehigh, Bucknell (twice), Franklin and Marshall, Washington and Jefferson, and Gettysburg. The team won all 15 games played, scoring 517 points to opponents' 20.

Because the "guards back" is getting to be ancient history, it may be well to run over the famous old play. It started with only the necessary five men in the line--the centre, guards, and tackles. At a given signal, the right, guard ran back from the line and took up a position in the backfield, while the right halfback jumped in and filled his position temporarily, thereby fulfilling the provision of the rules that five men must be in the scrimmage at the start of a play.

Like Flying Meat Axe

As soon as the right guard is in his new position the ball is snapped to the quarter. The right guard dashes forward; receives the ball from the quarterback as he passes him, and plunges into the opening at the right of centre with his head down for all he is worth. Meanwhile the right end, fullback, left halfback, left end and quarterback fall in behind him and push. Thus a wedge of six men is hurled at the opposing line like a flying meat axe. No human frame could withstand the momentum of this onslaught. It can be readily seen that under the old rule of five yards in three downs no ordinary defense methods could keep a team with this attack from marching down the field for touchdowns almost at will.

Whenever the boys got tired making touchdowns in this manner there was a very simple and deceptive variation which they used. There was the same formation at the start, and the right guard would go back in the same manner, but the quarter would give it to fire left halfback instead, who would take it for a run around right end, with the right guard preceding him on his flank to take out the opposing left end.

The right idea eventually came to Lewis, but in a rather strange manner.

In fact, he owes-the whole thing to Napoleon Bonaparte. For while he was wrestling with the problem he felt repeatedly that somewhere he had seen a similar play defeated. He thought over all the games he had over seen and concluded that he must have been mistaken, yet the notion kept recurring that he had seen or read the correct solution to the question. Whether if was in a class in modern history or in what manner the missing link of memory was furnished it is hard to tell, but here is the dialogue which suggested it:

"Marshall----- said to Napoleon, 'Shall I attack, sire?'

"'Not yet,' replied Napoleon. 'The sun of Austerlitz is my sun--let us wait until they engage our centre.'."

Austerlitz Gives Clue

That dialogue kept recurring in the back of the coach's mind in tantalizing fashion, until he finally remembered the plan of battle with which it was connected, and realized with great elation that the Little Corporal had just as good as licked Pennsylvania for him already.

"I thought it was at the Battle of Austerlitz that Napoleon executed the coup I had in mind," said Lewis, speaking about it later. "At any rate, here is the account of the battle which I read and remembered: The French army was drawn up in a line awaiting the Austrian advance. There were divisions of infantry in the centre and cavalry on each flank. Behind the first line of battle were strong reserves. Napoleon sat on his horse in the rear, surrounded by his marshals, who were awaiting final orders. At length the Austrians charged the French centre in a wedge shaped column. Then, as I recall the account, the conversation about the 'sun of Austerlitz' took place.

"Napoleon, as soon as he discovered the Austrian plan of attack, ordered his cavalry to cut in from the wings, attacking the on-coming column on both flanks. Then he ordered reserves to bolster up the centre. The result was that the cavalry cut the main body of the advancing column to pieces by their simultaneous flank attacks, while the reenforced centre bore the brunt of the Austrian 'spear-head.'"

Once Lewis had run down the clue that had been eluding him, he quickly saw the application of this military defense to his own problem. In both cases, a powerful blow was directed at the centre of the line, which could hardly be withstood by ordinary methods of defense. To substitute ends and tackles of a football team on the defensive for Napoleon's cavalry was a natural step, and the centre could be reenforced by the backs, just as the French centre was strengthened by reserves.

When the big Harvard-Penn game sung around, the football world suddenly woke to the fact that the unbeatable had been beaten. Every time the famous play started the Harvard ends and tackles charged around at the right moment and transferred the plunging, tearing human wedge into a keystone tightly jammed between two stanch supports Thus the line-crashing guard, Hare of Penn, was deprived of his powerful backing, and with the centre reenforced, he was easily stopped.

"In the middle of the game," said Lewis, "I heard one of the Penn tackles, Sam Goodman, exclaim in a tone of amazement, "What's the matter? We can't seem to gain anywhere." We held them consistently, and managed to get a touchdown and a field goal, winning the game 10-0." The team also defeated Yale, Army, Brown, Carlisle, Amherst, Dartmouth, Bowdoin and Williams that year.