The Sun.
London, England, 1838-08-05 00:00:00

CHRISTOPHER IN HIS CAVE.

(From Blackwood's Md-ga zine for August.)
•,‘ One of those heavenly days that cannot dip !" So saith Words-
worth, while " his heart rejoiced iniCature's joy," as saith Burns—
and in these few syllables you feel how happy at the time were both
poets. But not happier than you and We have often been and are
now, though poets we may not be truly called, except according to
the Sense in which ad human beings are poets who love dearly their
mother earth. And are you sure you' understand the feeling in
Wordsworth's beautiful line? Is it that the day itself is too divine to
die, and that the sun will never bring hiaiself to set on it; or that the
memory of' it must needs be immortal? •
Alas 1 How many heavenly days " seeming immortal in their
depth of rest" have died and been forgotten ! Treacherous and *la-
grateful is our memory even of bliss that overflowed our being aslight
our habitation. Our spirit's deepeg intercommunications with Nature,
has no place in her records—blanks are there that ought to have been
painted with imperishable imagery, and steeped in sentiment fresh as
the morning;
pensation—for who can bear to behold the light of bliss re:arising
f the rom on life's golden bills. Yet' there is mercy in this dia.
past On the ghastlier crloom of present Misery? The phan-
toms that kill not come when ;e call on them to comfort us, are too
often at our side when in out anguish we could almost pray that they
might be re'-buried in oblivion: Such hauntings as theSC are not as
.rviwors, for et
if they were visionary—they come and go like forms and shapes still
em'-sued with life. Shall we vainly stretch out our arms to embrace
• hold them. fast entrench or as vainly reek to enench ourselves by thoughts
of this world against their visitation? The sent in its sicknr.ss
knows not whether it be the duty of hive to resign itself to itirliff..
rence or to des p air. Shall it enjoy
life, they being dead? Shall the
slt
'tue na y
y, and let the sunbeams settle on their heads as they Used to do
a little While, walk in other companionship 'Out into
—or cover them with dust and ashes, and show to those in Heaven
that love for them is now to be expressed by remorse and penitence ?
Christopher in his Cave! and he makes;' We. assure you, a very
pretty hermit. Our heard is not so long as that goat's hanging on
,:t;pa. rsu.'hu streetst bless
are it,
not -
1" cliff. In Christian countries, Recluses shave, and aro attentive
to tneir toilet. We et en wear not spectacles', for we haye eagle to
enjoy the haze our decaying' eyeiig bs
ht gives to all olsieets in 'Nature,
n r envy y
of the streams we love,
whOse flowings'are in the soul, Earth-sick ? Nay—filial shall we
he to ;the last, 'awl bless her as she takes' us back into liter b,,suni.
Life-sick ?. Oh! -nay it not, for Gorl is 'goal. andgrit.f 'gracious ;
s ,
k
and sorrow conseerat,s din p.lth of fading acid titled flowers—vet
that
these channels
them
ter ever (Haigent. World.
'some among them, 0 Wo ! and bliss is me ! hi-ighter so help us Hea-
ven than ever—that leadeth to the grave'.
And where is our Cave? Hash—for We must hot " prate of its
where3bouts"—were we to do so it would dissolve.. But this much
we may reveal—it is in the Highlands. That is A wide word• and
will not break the spell. Thointerior.is cool in these the Dog-days
. —nor would it be otherwise if Sirius himself were panting at its

mouth. Yet perfectly dry—though one wonders how without mois-
ture of some kind or other the moss roof and walls, in their infinite
varieties of colouring, can be so freshly beautiful. 'Tis but some
four paces wide—some sir lung —end the key-stone of the arch little
higiter than our heads—the roof at no place beyond touch of the long
nail or claw on our Middle finger. In a niche facihg the light we are
reposing on a couch covered with the furs of fox, wild-cat, and otter
—a root-wreathed table, with slate-slab fair as any marble, we ever
and anon-3-leaning on our elbow—keep writing away at—as now—so-
liloquizing " penhae sussurru"—of which the whole wide world will
be listening delighted, in a week or so—for sound travels slowly
through such a solitude—to the echo. Friend of our soul I Would
thou wort here—for the first time in thy life to hear silence.
What 1 you arc eyeing that other table in shadow. That brightest
of crystal would seem empty to an inexperienced eye—to y-mrs full
to the stopper—of Glenlivet. They who placed it there were far
from supposing that we were likely to imbibe the dimidium of a gal-
lon—but 'tis an old saving superstition of the mountains iirzt to place
before a solitary man a vessel in which spirits are, yet fill it not, is
fital. Ay—wheaten bread of whitest grain—though grown in the
regions of heather. ,No need of the Po for Parmesan. The mea-
dows here overflow with milk as with honey. Field-strawberrici
redden the rocks, anti these basket,•fulls by fairy hand's were ga-
thered ere a dew-drop had of itself evanished—thoogh 'tis a wonder,
even to ourselves.. where can have grownstbose glorious grapes, pale
and purple, in, piled-up clusters—all for Christopher in his Cave—
the Sirdanapalus that he is—yet abstemious as that old Roman at his
Turnip, Feast. •
A Library, too, we declare, and well selected, for there is the
f 4te of Maga—these six vols . are manifestly Nexon's edition of
Wordsworth—there is no mistaking Pickering's Snaltspeare by Camp-
bell—and here, on the table before us, Milton, a mighty mass of ore
from the gold minep, and beside hith—an Album. In their own
handwriting' p Igo aft,r p ige of poetry by the great poets and the
good Creations of the pencil tOo—landscapes belonging to all the
loveliest lands on earth and the most ma,gnificent—by'arnateurs vvho
are artists indeed—and hy famous artists prto leave some relic of
their genius in the Boak of lteanty, kid here by Beauty's hands, to
charm in his solitude an old man's eye, !

• Neither of • these prejudices, but esuecially the formrr
can pass for vcry testable, when considered in a stiictly heialdric view. 1 h.t
who'c science of gmrealogicat accuracy is derived from the eiiildreo et Israel,
whtse individual Camilles indulged in a hope that thel ro.niscd Messiah might
be bon) front their stock ; a Dore aullienticated.poligrue hi earm emsequehtly
(me of the peculiar features of the Jewish polity; suet a qualification was
deemed ab.oiot,ly oe,essary ta all candidates tor ottice.i or power at :t1 hdiif ty.
The strictest l'r(lrls were requited troll all about to enter iii,) the priesthood,
the faVoored profe,soll usol,r a Ideroc,acy. 7che "Sepner Toledoth, ' ler Book
of I: •neratiomg, was rigidly aoPcAled to—even a'ri.
the
g• c.3t,,t mitto., I
ealamiti.,, when the ma,s both of public and private thicum:iits must hive
pprisll,l. • This omesid y orance.try eit• tended to at Clidiek.—Spanial Cie.,‘•.;lo:;u
awl Ileraldry.—Quai.tvily Review.

ANECDOTE OF NAPOLEON
AND M. BAOUR, THE DRAMATIST.

The second representation of Omasis tout
place at St. Cloud, on the 14th of September,
1806, and produced a profound sensation :
the tears of Josephine decided the hardest
hearts to weep. When the performance was
over, Napoleon sent for the author. Search
was made for him in vain at the theatre, for
he had remained at Paris. Next day, an aide-
de-Camp brought him a letter, in which he was
apprised that he would be received at St.
Cloud, at eight in the morning of the 16th of
September I have the exact date, as the
reader will observe. M. de Lormian waited
upon the at the appointed hour.
" Good day, Monsieur le Barde," gaid Na-
poleon, who by this title alluded to the poems
of Ossian, which M. Lormian had imitated
with so much taste and felicity; "it seems
,you write dramatic pieces 7 I saw your play
last night and sent for you: why were you not
at the performance ?"
" Sire, because I was not invited."
This frank reply seemed not to displease
Napoleon, who thus proceeded:--
" I have seen your tragedy, which is no tra-
gedy ; a useless amour—a ridiculous conspiracy
—no knowledge of the places—have you been
in Egypt?"
" No, Sire."

" So it appears. Was it you who gave direc-
tions for the dresses?"

" I trusted that part of the business to
Talmo."

" Telma has made a mistake. Instead of
the collar, the bracelets, and the Egyptian
robe, which Joseph should wear, he appeared
on the stage in the dress of a Nero. Your
Rhamnes is a poor creature ; when a man con-
spires, though but on the stage, he ought to
succeed or not to meddle with the matter . . .
Mademoiselle Mars's blue shawl, suited her
extremely well. As she plays in comedy only,
why did you give her the part of your Ben-
jamin ?"
" I judged that she alone possesses the quali-
ties required for that part."
" You did quite right . . . Your Simeon
ought to be but a chief of the desert ; you have
made him a sort of amphibious personage. . . .
He ought to be brought upon the stage with
the brother whom he has sold. . . The piece
wants that situation. 'Tis a difficult point I
know, but that's your business Your
Jacob is a blubberer . . . and Joseph a phrase-
maker."

All these remarks thrown out without 'sequel
or connection, after the Emperor's manner,
began to annoy the poor author, who asked
himself if he had been sent for to be made a
fool of ? Napoleon, who secretly enjoyed the
vexation of M. Baour Lormian, to whose Gas-
con vanity, he was no stranger, tormented hint
some time longer with his criticisms. All at
once be changed his language and his tone
Well, Monsieur le Bark". said he, " I
have worried you enough. *Your tragedy is not
a tragedy, that is indisputable; but it displays
extraordinary beauties : the exposure, the scene
with Benjamin, the conclusion of the fourth act,
and above all, the fifth, are superb: the style
in particular is wonderful; it is Ciniarosa's
music. This is an admirable beginning, but
you must continue. . . . Are you well off ?"
" No, Sire."
" These poets never have a sou."
" Your Majesty will no doubt be pleased to
make a liar of the proverb."
Here Napoleon smiled, and added:—
" Work away, I will provide for you. Your
Ossian is admirable; I know Arthur's song by
heart. That work has sold well : publish a
splendid edition ; I will contribute to it."
Napoleon then rose from table; for be
breakfasted during this conversation, at which
the Duke of Frioul and Count du Lucay, Pre-
fect of the Palace, were present. He took M.
de Lormian aside to the embrasure of a window
and said to him :

i‘ When you write another' play, come and
read it to me ; lam very fond of tragedy. I
shall give you a provisional pension of two
thousand crowns out of my privy pure; by-
and-by I will do more—that depends on you.
—Adieu, and without ill-will."

On the second day after this audience, Ai.
de Lormian received from Napoleon a gold
snuff-box with his cypher, containing eight
thousand francs in banknotes. For the rest,
the author profited by the advice given him by
Napoleon, and added a scene between O►nasis
and Simeon; this scene is, beyond dispute, tha
most effective, in a dramatic point of view,
in the play.

When Marshal Soult was at Man-
chester, a working man in a cotton manufactory there
wished exceedingly to shake hands with the Marshal.
His wish was readily gratified, when be explained his
motive. He had been in the Rifle Brigade all the
Peninsular war, and had fired at Soult THIRTY
but failed. At Toulouse, he fired twenty times at the
Marshal, with the same result. The Marshal a,;aiu
shook him by the hand, saying that he was a good
soldier, and had done his best to serve his country,

MARSHAL SOULT AND CAPTAIN
Maxey.--(From a Correspoudent.)—At an interview
which Marshal Soult granted to Captain Manby, on
Friday last, for the purpose of requesting his Excel-
lency to take charge of a memorial to his Bovereikn
the King of the French, to sanction and oncourage an
international negotiation with the maritime nations
of the world, and enter into a comprehensive treaty
of mutual alliances for the preservation of life, and
the protection of property (to the rightful owner)
on whatever shore the misfoitune of shipwreck may
happen ; also providing warm clothing and temporary
comfort to the sailor after he is saved from shipwreck,
and assisting him to his home to whatever country he
may belong; to which the Marshal was thus pleased to
express himself—" I am most happy to take by the
hand the man whose name is so universally honoured
for his noble mid generous ph ilanthrophy, and to assure
him
.that on my return to Paris I will immediately
attend to his request, and press the subject on his Mi.
esty's earnest attention."

Her Majesty, at the levee on the 13th,
knighted ➢lajor William Lloyd, for military services,
particularly for his gallantry at the battle of Seeta-
buldea, in India, where he was severely wounded.

The Earl of Sandwich will shortly
lead to the Hymeneal altar Lady Mary Paget,
one of the unmarried daughters of the Marquis of
Anglesey, and sister of the Earl of 'Oxbridge, Lord
Alfred Paget, &c.

ORIENTAL LITERATURE. -- The
first inducement to the study of Oriental literature is
the extreme beauty of the Arabic language, which
is incomparably the most beautiful and perfect of all
the dialects. It is Hebrew in its highest state of
advancement, losing nothing of its massive strength,
but exchanging its venerable simplicity for the dimen-
sions and ornaments of a graceful and classic order.
It is hardly possible to conceive anything more elabe-
rated in the science of_ grammar than the powers of
Arabic formation and the endless variety of expression
which it offers to the scrupulous ex.aetness -of the
philsopher no less than to the glowing images of tl..e
poet; and Sanscrit aisne—that puzzle of Orientalists,
that unsolved problem of modern inqiiirers, who
still doubt where and whence it sprung, and whetlier
it ever were a spoken langurge at eel—Sanseeit nlonc,
can vie with Arabic in its exquisite and artificial
structure. And this very perfection of the langone
in its capabilities is perhaps the very reason of its
failure in its actual achievea eats. The genius of
its best and greatest writers seems to have glen so
fascinated with the vehicle of. expression, that the
expression itself of their nob est thoughts becotne
dwarfed, and often puerile, so that their poetry is too
perpetually interrupted by conceit, and their oratory
degenerates into rhetoric. Still let it not be ima-
gined that their poetry is nothing but conceit, rend
that the master passions of the soul are not touched
with a master's hand, and in tones that would corn-
' mand the breathless admiration even of an English
audience. It is too common to imagine that tne
only characteristic of their poetry is a certain pretti-
, Hess- of thought,and flowery: elegance of expression.
Nerve, and the -deepest energy of feeling are its
genuine characteristics ; and while tiny are deficient
in the sustained efforts of the epic 'and the drama, a
thousand gems might be selected of striking and
im-
passioned thought, clothed ID in.cu line and commviti.
ingbeauty.—From Prefe.tsur Beloit eon's introductory
Lecture at Cambridge 0,, (Mental Literatai•e. •
• - '
EA
11 're is scarcely'
RTH ENWA •
'beautiful a
any y
itsmganrandlacu
gradual
riemap•rhoiveehini s.a,rti.h ti.lear ets.: itiscee„ contemplateioo.,g4 th
ato r
n
earthenware, presenting, as it dOei s
ing us
polishctil life. cwheiitnhistthrey
ts
the several Iwo-
cunion
o comforts asicidienocrcnaamnden
ornament,
iscies of etaerrishh:rziadr
aa Ici,):rtianivileisiitgil4aatsinug'ell their most ap.
ropria‘e combinations, as the respective degrees of
teat which the several composition, require. Art has
studied the designs of autir.uity, anti I:rut:wed Irons
them vessels even more exquisite in form tlnai the
models by which they have been augeeEta,j.
ware has Leers provhied in such gradattuis of quality
as to suit every station, from the highest Li thr,
lowest. It is to be tens in ev, r e coutitty, almoat
in every house, through the whole extent tit Atli, ricer,
in many parts of Asia, and in iteast of the i:OUilLr'eli
Europe. At home it has suiwiseaed tloalesa yes, ly
vessels of pewter aid of Weed,ai,u by its
~11, 1,4 k
been lil-0411t within then peoiaiNiaaae-
keepers. Etirteeti built iasostailcea originalty
sa ue, the tahrication has produced latiunr of such
various clasaes, fled created si.tll ui sUl:11 ,adaua SIC.
'greet., that nearly the whole value o the aolioal pro-
duce may be considered as au ten.ition mar i• our
mass tit* Ilitt1011:11 WLa.I 11. 'II, Al) iiiii nnP 4iilliv were
eltnbited in every owellingis sufficient evidenceof the
vase augmentation of the naanuraewie, %leen is also
dernoindrated by the rapid increase of the peiasilacem
In the districts where the Lu.Wcles 04494
blibhett. —Quarterty

;",~:

MEMOIR
OF
MARSHAL SOULT.

Marshal Soult is one of the most remark-.
able men that have figured during the last half
century—a period fertile, beyond almost any
other recorded in history, in warriors, civilians,

statesmen—indeed, in every species of intellec-
tual greatness. His early youth was spent in
the wars of the Revolution, when the Jacobins,
headed by Robespierre, were Lords of the
ascendant throughout France; his manhood
was devoted to upholding the glories of the Con-
sulate and the Empire; and his age is dedicated
to the service of the only monarch that France
has ever known, who was called to the throne

by the unanimous suffrages of the people. The
very name of this distinguished veteran acts on
the imagination like a spell. It reminds us of
that heated and enthusiastic period, when a
whole nation rushed under the banners 'of the

Republic to the frontiers, and, single-handed,
successfully resisted, under the clever but un-
principled Dumourier, the attacks of the Euro-
pean coalition ; of the unparalleled Reign of
Terror, when thousands of the bravest and
best in France were led out to the scaffold—a

fate, which the subject of the following Memoir
only escaped by his then comparatively inferior
rank in the army ; and of that dazzling phe-
nomenon, the Empire, and its illustrious bead,
Napoleon, who, like the Egyptian Scsostris,
bound Kings to his chariot wheels. Fleurus
—the Camp of Boulogne—Austerlitz—Eylau
—Corunna--Bautzen—mention but these stir-
ring names, and Soult instantly occurs to one's
recollection. He occupies in modern military
history a place inferior only to that occupied
by Napoleon and Wellington. An abler soldier
never wielded the Marshal's truncheon. His
was not the mere physical bravery of a Ney,
a Lannes, or a Murat ; he had—for as a war-
rior, we speak of him in the past tense—far
higher qualities, combining the cool, sagacious
bead of a Turenne, with the chivalric nature
of a Cond6. Among those of the Revolu-
tionary and Imperial Generals who are still in
existence, Bernadotte alone, the present King
of Sweden, is considered his equal ; and there
are not a few of the French military Memoir
writers, who consider Soult his superior in
skill and quickness of conception and com-
bination. _

This distinguished soldier was born March
29th, in the year 1769, at St. Aurans, in the
Department of Tarn. From earliest boyhood
he was haunted by a wish to follow the drum,
and accordingly, in his sixteenth year he en-
tered the army, and after spending some time
in the Royal Regiment of Artillery, became
sub-lieutenant of grenadiers. At this period,
not having birth or fortune, or connexions to
recommend him, he hadlittle chance of obtain-
ing much higher promotion, for the aristocratic
regulations of the army were in full force ; but
the Revolution breaking out soon afterwards,
all the exclusive privileges of the old French
Noblesse were swept away with the suddenness
and violence of a mountain torrent ; and a
broad, easy, and sure path was opened to talent,
of which Soult, together with many other sol-
diers of fortune, who subsequently won high
renown in arms, was not slow to avail himself.
Under Hoche, the Pacificator of La Vendee,
who died too soon for his country, but not for
his own fame—and then under Jourdan, the
rival in military tactics of Marceau—young
Soult rendered himself conspicuous by a bravery
which was always amenable to the dictates of
a sound discretion. At the celebrated battle of
Fleurus, in particular, which saved France
from Austrian invasion, his judgment, combined
with his daring courage, decided the fortune
of the day, and brought him under the notice
of one of the ablest of the early Revolu-
tionary Generals, Marceau, in whom, during his
brief but brilliant career, he found an assiduous
friend and patron. From this time to the
peace of Amiens, Soult's military reputation
daily increased. In 1794, he was made Ge-
neral of brigade, and in 1798, of division.
We do not hear much of the aspiring young
soldier during Napoleon's first campaigns in
Italy—the most extraordinary and triumphant
the world has ever known—for he was, we
believe, serving at the time under Moreau in
Germany. His name, however, was not un-
known to Buonaparte, who, after he had over-
thrown the feeble and dissolute Directory, and
established the Consulate, inquired one day of
Massena whether Soult deserved his high re-
putation. " Both for judgment-and courage,"
replied the veteran, " I can recommend him,
as one who, in my opinion, has scarcely a su-
perior." The consequence of this honest praise
was, that he was entrusted with the command
of the Chasseurs of the Consular Guard, and
honoured with the personal esteem of Napo-
leon, greatly to the annoyance of Berthier—a
vain, inefficient man, who, wholly destitute of
military qualities himself, could never behold
without jealousy the homage which the Firs t
Consul paid to such qualities in others.
There are few of the existing generation
who can remember the intense excitement
-which the projected invasion of England created
throughout the country, and, indeed, generally,
on the Continent, about the commencement
of the present century. A more feverish, ex-
citing period was never known. Men of all
classes, ages, trades, and professions flew to
arms. Militia bands, carefully disciplined and
officered, were raised in every county ; the most
munificent donations were freely given by pri-
vate individuals to Government ; loans to an
almost incredible amount were obtained ; and
from the peer in his palace to the peasant
in his hut, herculean exertions were made
by people of all ranks to hurl back the invasion
with which France threatened us. In that
country the agitation was equally great. There,
nothing was talked of but the approaching cap-
ture and pillage of London, and the conversion
of the British Monarchy into a Republic, after
the most approved French fashion. Taking
advantage—as was always his wont—of the na-
tional feeling in favour of invasion, Napoleon
assembled the flower of his army at Boulogne,
and placed Soult in command over it, as being
the most skilful, if not the most victorious, of his
Generals. In this situation the subject of our
Memoir, knowing well the importance of the
crisis, established a system of discipline severer
than had ever been known to exist among the
French troops. From sunrise to night-fall,
and not unfrequently till midnight, he was on
horseback, inspecting their various evolutions,
or superintending on foot their labors in the
intrenchments. Many of them complained of
this exceeding zeal on the part of the General,
and one day even Napoleon expressed an ap-
prehension that they would in the end sink
under it. Soult replied, " Such as cannot with-
stand the fatigue which I support myself will
remain in the depots ; but such as do stand it,
will be fit to undertake the conquest of the
world." Every one knows how all these great
military prepai ations ended. Scarcely had the
invasion been three months under corsideration,
than it was laid aside, and forever. The timely
appearance of a British squadron in the Chan-
nel, aided by the dreaded name of Nelson,
soon brought the French Government to rea-
son ; Soult and his troops were ordered off to
Germany, to engage in that celebrated cam-
paign which terminated in the decisive victory
of Austerlitz, and gave Pitt his death-blow ;
but as France loves theatrit al effects; and
rarely confesses to "a heavy blow and a great
discouragement," a triumphal pillar was erected
by order, of Buonaparte on the heights of
Boulogne, in la'sting commemoration of the
prodigious victories that Frenchmen would
have achieved, if Englishmen would have
permitted them.
On the establishment of the empire, Soult,

together with eighteen other Generals, was in.
vested with the Marshal's truncheon—greatly
to the satisfaction of the army, who knew and
appreciated his rare military qualities.
In the celebrated and decisive battle of Aus-
terlitz, he distinguished himself` by consummate
skill and intrepidity—indeed proved himself
inferior only to his great master. He Was in-
cessantly on the alertthrout.,Thout the night that
preceded this dreadful conflict, while the re-
mainder of the camp was slumbering by its
watch-fires about him ; and at day-break,
when, amid cloud and fog, that brilliant sun
broke forth which Napoleon so often after-
wards' apostrophised as the " sun of Auster-
litz," Soult was first in attendance at the Em-
peror's tent, to receive his final commands.
" As for you, Marshal," said Buonaparte, in
the presence of all his staff, " I have only to
observe, act as you always do." That this high
complitnent was not unmerited, the following
characteristic anecdote will show. In the heat
of the battle an aid-de-camp arrived with an
o rder that he should instantly gain the heights
of Pratzen. " I will obey the Emperor's com-
mands as soon as I can," answered tbe Mar-
shal, "but this is not the proper`time.". This
kindled Buonapai te's rage, who despatched
another aid-de-camp with a more 'peremptory
mandate., He arrived just as' Soult was put-
ting' his"column in motion , The. manoeuvre,
it appears, had,been delayed only because the
Russians were' extending their line to the left,
and so weakening their centre, which was in
possession of the heights. Complete success

attended, as might have been expected, the Marshal's attack. From
the eminence on which he was stationed, Napoleon perceived at once
the reason of Soult's delay, and the brilliaticy of. his movement. He
instantly rode up to him, and before his whole staff, who but the
moment before had heard him exclaiming violently against his dis-
obedience, said •' Marshal, I account you the ablest tactician in
my empire." " I believe it, Sire," replied the other; who had always
something of the courtier in his nature, " since your Majesty has had
the goodness to tell me so." At another time, still in the heat of the
battle, the Emperor exclaimed, " Marshal, you have covered your-
self with glory to-day; you have exceeded my expectations of you;"
and shortly afterwards, when some of his Generals demanded fresh
instructions, he replied, " Go and receive them from Marshal Soult
he it is who directs the action."

At Eylau Soult's services were equally valuable. At this place
the French army was placed in a critical situation. Augereau had
been defeated; the march of Davoust had been impeded; Nev and
Bernadotte were at a distance ; thousands of the best of the French
troops lay wounded or dead on the ground, while the enemy still
maintained his position ; and the Emperor was so much discouraged
by this combination of vexatious circumstances, that he wished to fall
back, in order to effect a junction'with his other corps. But Soult's
sagacity and foresight came to his aid in this emergency. " Beware
of doing so, Sire," said the Marshal, " let us remain the last on the
field,' and we shall have the honour of the day. From the observa-
tions I have been able to make, I suspect the enemy will retreat
during the night." Napoleon complied with this suggestion,
the wisdom of which was fully, justified by the event, and the
Marshal was soon afterwards rewarded with the ducal fief of
Dalmatia. •

In the year 1808 Soult entered Spain. Here his first task was to
pursue Sir John Moore, whom
openly he harassed greatly in his retreat, but
7hto attack until he reached Corunna.
Under the walls of that cpietn
.General, with the view of itrbeeventilnlg his embarkation ; but, after a
e vigorously assailed the English
aasioant Moore was killed, he was
hard-fought battle, in which
completely repulsed. On this occg
of his
near, the spot
theb French Marshal ShoWed
the native generosity of his disposition,
where he had fallen, a monument, in honourtyowardis conqueror. Nor
was this his only chivalrous act of courtesy
the battle of Corunna," says Col. Napier, in hiss an
enemy. "At
Majora mirably written
history of the Peninsular war, " my brother,Napier, was
wounded and made prisoner. He was returned among the killed.
The morning after the action the Duke of Dalmatia, apprised
of the Major's sitvation, had him conveyed to good quarters,g. and,
with a kindness and consideration very uncommon, wrote to Napoleon
desiring that his prisoner might not
,be. sent to France, which, from
the System of refusing exchanges, would have, been destruction to his
professional prospects. The Marshal, also obtained for the, drummer
who' had saved him from being murdered by a French soldier, the
decoration of the Legion of Honour. The events of the war obliged
Soult to depart a few days afterwards from Corunna; but he recom-