might have been effected with inconsiderable loss.  Such a precaution was the more necessary, as he could not be ignorant that Bluecher’s troops had already gained a march upon him, and was waiting for him at the Saale.  Thus the want of a few paltry wooden bridges proved as ruinous to the French army as the battle itself.  It lost, solely because it was unprovided with them, great part of its yet remaining artillery, several thousands of dead, who were mostly drowned, and a great number of prisoners.  It was evident that such a retreat, conducted without order and without plan, was likely to be attended with the total destruction of the remnant of the army before it could reach the Rhine.  By the actions on the Unstrut and Saale, at Eisenach and Hanau, this force was actually so reduced, that, on its arrival at the Rhine, it must probably have entirely lost its military consequence.  How infinitely inferior is Napoleon in this branch of the military art to the immortal Moreau, to whom he would have owed everlasting obligations, had he, at his glorious death, bequeathed to him the transcendent art of converting retreats into victories!

In regard to boldness, Napoleon certainly belongs to the generals of the first rank.  He has undertaken and executed the rashest enterprises.  But, if the true hero shines with the greatest lustre in misfortune, like Hannibal and Frederic the Great, Napoleon must be classed far below them.  He abandoned his army in Russia when it had most need of his assistance; and the reason assigned for this desertion—­that circumstances rendered his presence necessary in France—­is by no means satisfactory to the rigid inquirer.  During the seven-years’ war, the more dangerous the situation of the Prussian army, the more Frederic felt himself bound to continue with it, and to assist it with his eminent military genius.  The campaign of 1813 has clearly proved that the secret of Napoleon’s most decisive victories has consisted in the art of assailing his opponents with a superior force.  Napoleon would be incapable of attacking with 30,000 men an army of 90,000, posted in an advantageous position, and defeating it, as Frederic did at Leuthen.  Napoleon, like the Prussian monarch, attempted to penetrate into Bohemia, a country so dangerous for an army; but what a wretched business did he make of it, in comparison with the latter!  Frederic waged war that he might conquer peace; Napoleon never wished for peace, often as he has made a show of desiring it.  Frederic knew how to stop his victorious career in time, for History had taught him that it is as difficult to retain as to acquire glory.  Napoleon imagined that his fame was susceptible of increase alone, and lost it all in the fields of Leipzig.  The hardly-earned laurels of France faded along with it.  With what feelings must he direct his views beyond the Rhine, where the eyes of so many thousands are now opened?  He too has lived to witness days which are far from agreeable to him.  He, who represented