time probably in his life, because his center was covered by a fortification and an intrenched camp, and, in addition, the attack of his left was combined with that of Vandamme upon the enemy's line of retreat. At Marengo, if we may credit Napoleon himself, the oblique order he assumed, resting his right at Castel Ceriole, saved him from almost inevitable defeat. Ulm and Jena were battles won by strategy before they were fought, tactics having but little to do with them. At Ulm there was not even a regular battle.
I think we may hence conclude that if it seems absurd to desire to mark out upon the ground orders of battle in such regular lines as would be used in tracing them on a sketch, a skillful general may nevertheless bear in mind the orders which have been indicated above, and may so combine his troops on the battle-field that the arrangement shall be similar to one of them. He should endeavor in all his combinations, whether deliberately arranged or adopted on the spur of the moment, to form a sound conclusion as to the important point of the battle-field; and this he can only do by observing well the direction of the enemy's line of battle, and not forgetting the direction in which strategy requires him to operate. He will then give his attention and efforts to this point, using a third of his force to keep the enemy in check or watch his movements, while throwing the other two-thirds upon the point the possession of which will insure him the victory. Acting thus, he will have satisfied all the conditions the science of grand tactics can impose upon him, and will have applied the principles of the art in the most perfect manner. The manner of determining the decisive point of a battle-field has been described in the preceding chapter, (Art. XIX.)
Having now explained the twelve orders of battle, it has occurred to me that this would be a proper place to reply to several statements made in the Memoirs of Napoleon published by General Montholon.
The great captain seems to consider the oblique order a modern invention, a theorist's fancy,—an opinion I can by no means share; for