choice troops, and that now the flower of the army was reserved for the Emperor; but it is likewise true that then they had fought for wealth, advancement, and power. Now they yearned to enjoy their gains, and were embittered because Napoleon had not accepted Austria's terms of mediation until it was too late. Moreover, Bernadotte, one of their opponents, had been trained in their own school, and was fighting for a crown. To Blücher, untamed and untrustworthy in temper, had been given in the person of Gneisenau an efficient check on all headlong impulses, and Bülow was a commander far above mediocrity. Such considerations go far to account for three disasters—those, namely, of Grossbeeren, Katzbach, and Kulm—which made it insufficient for Napoleon to hold Dresden and throw back the main army of the allies, and which thwarted all his strategy, military and political.

The first of these affairs was scarcely a defeat. Oudinot, advancing with seventy thousand men by way of Wittenberg to seize Berlin, found himself confronted by Bernadotte with eighty thousand. The latter, with his eye on the crown of France, naturally feared to defeat a French army; at first he thought of retreating across the Spree and abandoning the Prussian capital. But the Prussians were outraged at the possibility of such conduct, and the schemer was convinced that a show of resistance was imperative. On August twenty-second a few skirmishes occurred, and the next day Bülow, disobeying his orders, brought on a pitched battle at Grossbeeren, which was waged, with varying success, until nightfall left the village in French hands. Oudinot, however, discouraged alike by the superior force of the enemy, by the obstinate courage of the Prussians, and by the dismal weather, lost heart, and retreated to Wittenberg. The heavy rains prevented an effective pursuit, but the Prussians followed as far as Treuenbrietzen. On August twenty-first, Blücher, aware of the circumstances which kept Napoleon at Dresden, had finally determined to attack Macdonald. The French marshal, by a strange coincidence, almost simultaneously abandoned the defensive position he had been ordered to hold, and advanced to give battle. It was therefore a mere chance when on the twenty-fifth the two armies came together, amid rain and fog, at the Katzbach. After a bitter struggle the French were routed with frightful loss. A terrific rain-storm set in, and the whole country was turned into a marsh. For five days Blücher continued the pursuit, until he reached Naumburg, on the right bank of the Queiss, where he halted, having captured eighteen thousand prisoners and a hundred and three guns.

To these misfortunes the affair at Kulm was a fitting climax. No worse leader for a delicate independent movement could have been selected than the reckless Vandamme. He was so rash, conceited, and brutish that Napoleon once exclaimed in sheer desperation: "If there were two Vandammes in my army, nothing could be done until one had killed the other." As might have been expected, the headlong general far outstripped the columns of Marmont, Saint-Cyr, and Murat, which had been tardily sent to support him. Descending without circumspection into the plain of Kulm, he found himself, on the twenty-ninth, confronted by the Russian guard; and next morning, when attacked by them in superior force, he was compelled to retreat through a mountain defile toward Peterswald, whence he had come. At the mouth of the gorge he was unexpectedly met by the Prussian corps of Kleist. Each side thought the other moving to cut it off. They therefore rushed one upon the other in despair, with no other hope than that of breaking through to rejoin their respective armies. The shock was terrible, and for a time the confusion seemed inextricable. But the Russians soon came up, and Vandamme, with seven thousand men, was captured, the loss in slain and wounded being about five thousand. Saint-Cyr, Marmont, and Murat halted and held the mountain passes.

This was the climax of disaster in Napoleon's great strategic plan. In no way responsible for Grossbeeren, nor for Macdonald's defeat on the Katzbach, he was culpable both for the selection of Vandamme and for failure to support him in the pursuit of Schwarzenberg. At St. Helena the Emperor strove in three ways to account for the crash under which he was buried after Dresden: by the sickness which made him unable to give attention to the situation, by the inundation which rendered Macdonald helpless at the crossing of the Bober, and by the arrival of a notification from the King of Bavaria that, after a certain date, he too would join the coalition. This was not history, but an appeal to public sentiment, carefully calculated for untrained readers.

The fact was that at Dresden the gradual transformation of the strategist into the politician, which had long been going on, was complete. The latter misapprehended the moment for diplomatic negotiations, conceiving the former's victory to have been determinative, when in reality it was rendered partial and contingent by failure to follow it up. Great as Napoleon was in other respects, he was supremely great as a strategist; it is therefore his psychological development and decline in this respect which are essential to the determination of the moment in which he became bankrupt in ability. This instant was that of course in which his strategic failures became no longer intermittent, but regular; and after Dresden such was the case. As to conception and tactics there never was a failure—the year 1814 is the wonder-year of his theoretical genius; but after Dresden there is continuous failure in the practical combination of concept and means, in other words, of strategic mastery. This contention as to the clouding of Napoleon's vision by the interference of political and military considerations is proved by his next step. Hitherto his basal principle had been to mass all his force for a determinative blow, his combinations all turning about hostile armies and their annihilation, or at least about producing situations which would make annihilation possible. Now he was concerned, not with armies, but with capital cities. Claiming that to extend his line toward Prague would weaken it, in order to resume a strong defensive he chose the old plan of an advance to Berlin, and Ney was sent to supersede Oudinot, Schwarzenberg being left to recuperate unmolested. The inchoate idea of political victory which turned him back from Pirna was fully developed; by a blow at Berlin and a general northward movement he could not merely punish Prussia, but alarm Russia, separate the latter's army from that of the other allies, and then plead with Austria his consideration in not invading her territories. In spite of all that has been written to the contrary, there was some strength in this idea, unworthy as it was of the author's strategic ability. Ney was to advance immediately, while he himself pressed on to Hoyerswerda, where he hoped to establish connections for a common advance.

Such a concentration would have been possible if for a fortnight Macdonald had been able to hold Blücher, and Murat had succeeded in checking Schwarzenberg. But the news of Macdonald's plight compelled Napoleon to march first toward Bautzen, in order to prevent Blücher from annihilating the army in Silesia. Exasperated by this unexpected diversion, the Emperor started in a reckless, embittered temper. On September fifth it became evident that Blücher would not stand, and Napoleon prepared to wheel in the direction of Berlin; but the orders were almost immediately recalled, for news arrived that Schwarzenberg was marching to Dresden. At once Napoleon returned to the Saxon capital. By September tenth he had drawn in his forces, ready for a second