hey had betrayed. Wily Massena, the
wisest and ablest of them all, was old and in convenient retirement.
Macdonald, the incorruptible, was with the fat-bodied, fat-witted Bourbon
King in Ghent. Berthier, with his marvelous mastery of detail and his
almost uncanny ability to translate the Emperor's thoughts even into
orders, had not rejoined the Eagles--a terrible loss, indeed.

There were but two of the Marshals of old with Napoleon. Soult, in some
respects the acutest strategist and finest tactician, was Chief of Staff.
He tried his best to fill Berthier's position and did it acceptably, if
not with the success of that master. The other Marshal was preeminently
the battle-leader, red-headed Michael Ney, the fighter of fighters, a man
whose personality was worth an army-corps, whose reputation and influence
with the soldiers was of the very highest.

The rest of the officers, while veterans, were younger and less-known
men. Drouet d'Erlon commanded one of the corps; Reille another; Grouchy
another; Druot was the leader of the Guard; Kellerman, Milhaud, Gerard
and Maurice the cavalry. It was an army of veterans, officered by young
men, commanded by the greatest of soldiers.

But the army had not yet "found itself." It had no natural coherence and
there had been no time to acquire any. It had not yet been welded
together. Officers, men, regiments, brigades, divisions were, more or
less, new and strange to one another. There was a vast deal of suspicion
in the ranks. The discipline was rather because of past habit than
present practice. That army needed a few victories, and badly needed
them. A welding process was required. Given time and success to shake
it together, and it might laugh at the world.

Would it get time and win victory? That was the question. And if it got
neither, what then? How would it stand up under the strain? Would the
tie that bound hold in defeat? Could the rest of the army live up to the
Guard, for instance? Yes, that was the grave, the all-important question.

There was an enormous disparity in numbers between the French army--or it
would better be called Napoleon's army--and that of the allies he
purposed to attack. The allies were to the French in the ratio of about
two to one. Whatever else was lacking, Napoleon had not lost his
audacity, nor when his intentions are disclosed by a study of his plans,
can it be argued that his strategic intention was lacking in brillianc