On 8 September 1831, a voice rang through the world similar to that of the angel in the Apocalypse, announcing the fall of towns and empires; that voice, as incoherent as a death-rattle or last expiring sigh, formulated itself in these terrible words on 16 September: "Poland has just fallen! Warsaw is taken!" We know how this news was announced to the Chamber of Deputies by General Sébastiani. "Letters I have received from Poland," he said, in the session of 16 September, "inform me that PEACE _reigns in Warsaw."_ There was a slight variation given in the _Moniteur_, which spoke of ORDER, instead of _peace_, reigning in Warsaw. Under the circumstances neither word was better than the other: both were infamous! It is curious to come across again to-day the echo which that great downfall awakened in the soul of poets and believers, those living lyres which great national misfortunes cause to vibrate, and from whom the passing breeze of calamity draws exquisite sounds. Here we have four replies to the optimistic phraseology of the Minister for Foreign Affairs-- BARTHÉLEMY "_Destinée à périr!_ ... L'oracle avait raison! Faut-il accuser Dieu, le sort, la trahison? Non, tout était prévu, l'oracle était lucide!... Qu'il tombe sur nos fronts, le sceau du fratricide! Noble sœur! Varsovie! elle est morte pour nous; Morte un fusil en main, sans fléchir les genoux; Morte en nous maudissant à son heure dernière; Morte en baignant de pleurs l'aigle de sa bannière, Sans avoir entendu notre cri de pitié, Sans un mot de la France, un adieu d'amitié! Tout ce que l'univers, la planète des crimes, Possédait de grandeur et de vertus sublimes; Tout ce qui fut géant dans notre siècle étroit A disparu! Tout dort dans le sépulcre froid!... Cachons-nous! cachons-nous! nous sommes des infâmes! Rasons nos poils, prenons la quenouille des femmes; Jetons has nos fusils, nos guerriers oripeaux, Nos plumets citadins, nos ceintures de peaux; Le courage à nos cœurs ne vient que par saccades ... Ne parlons plus de gloire et de nos barricades! Que le teint de la honte embrase notre front! Vous voulez voir venir les Russes: ils viendront!..." BARBIER "_La Guerre_