ton had nearly reached the bank, when he sank to rise no more; and
Poniatowski, the chivalrous Pole, the last hope of his nation, was seen
for an instant struggling with the waves, and then disappeared for ever.

'Twenty thousand men, sixty great guns, and above two hundred waggons
were thus left in the power of the enemy. Few who sought refuge in
flight ever reached the opposite bank, and for miles down, the shores
of the Elster were marked by the bodies of French soldiers, who thus met
their death on that fearful night.

'Among the disasters of this terrible retreat was the fate of Reynier,
of whom no tidings could be had; nor was it known whether he died in
battle, or fell a prisoner into the hands of the enemy. He was the
personal friend of the Emperor, who in his loss deplored not only the
brave and valorous soldier, but the steady adherent to his fortunes
through good and evil. No more striking evidence of the amount of
this misfortune can be had than the bulletin of Napoleon himself.
That document, usually devoted to the expression of vainglorious and
exaggerated descriptions of the triumphs of the army--full of those
high-flown narratives by which the glowing imagination of the Emperor
conveyed the deeds of his soldiers to the wondering ears of France--was
now a record of mournful depression and sad reverse of fortune.

'"The French army," said he, "continues its march on Erfurt--a beaten
army. After so many brilliant successes, it is now in retreat."

'Every one is already acquainted with the disastrous career of that
army, the greatest that ever marched from France. Each step of their
return, obstinately contested against overwhelming superiority of force,
however it might evidence the chivalrous spirit of a nation who would
not confess defeat, brought them only nearer to their own frontiers,
pursued by those whose countries they had violated, whose kings they had
dethroned, whose liberties they had trampled on. The fearful Nemesis of
war had come. The hour was arrived when all the wrongs they had wreaked
on others were to be tenfold inflicted on themselves; when the plains
of that "belle France," of which they were so proud, were to be trampled
beneath the feet of insulting conquerors; when the Cossack and the Uhlan
were to bivouac in that capital which they so arrogantly styled "the
centre of European civilisation."

'I need not dwell on these things; I will but ask you to accompany me
to Erfurt, where t