At St Helena, where, like the old soldiers in Chelsea Hospital, Napoleon so often “fought his battles o’er again,” he frequently referred to the battle of Eckmühl. On one occasion he called it “that superb manœuvre, the finest that I ever executed,” attributing its indecisiveness to his lack of sleep on the previous night. Under cover of night, and during the early hours of the morning of the 23rd, the cumbersome baggage of the Imperialists was hurried across the bridge which spans the Danube at Ratisbon. This was followed by the retreat of part of the army over a pontoon bridge hastily put together, the Austrian rear-guard protecting the necessarily slow and somewhat difficult passage. Nine battalions only remained on the right bank of the river when Napoleon was making his final preparations to take the walled town of Ratisbon by assault. Fighting had already begun near the town. Ladders were secured, and the intrepid Lannes was soon within the old-time fortress, which speedily capitulated. In his “Incident of the French Camp” Browning has sung of a lad who took part in the storming. He depicts Napoleon standing on a little mound “With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.” The Emperor soliloquises that if Lannes “waver at yonder wall” his plans may miscarry, when-- “Out ’twixt the battery-smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound. “Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse’s mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect-- (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. “‘Well,’ cried he, ‘Emperor, by God’s grace We’ve got you Ratisbon! The Marshal’s in the market-place, And you’ll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart’s desire, Perched him!’” Napoleon’s eye flashed with the pride of victory, but presently: “Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle’s eye When her bruised eaglet breathes; ‘You’re wounded!’ ‘Nay,’ the soldier’s pride Touched to the quick, he said: ‘I’m killed, Sire!’ And his chief beside Smiling the boy fell dead.”