CHAPTER XII.
THE GUARD.
The rest is known,--the irruption of a third army; the battledislocated; eighty-six cannon thundering simultaneously; Pirch I.coming up with Bülow; Ziethen's cavalry led by Blücher in person:the French driven back; Marcognet swept from the plateau of Ohain;Durutte dislodged from Papelotte; Donzelot and Quiot falling back;Lobau attacked on the flank; a new battle rushing at nightfall onthe weakened French regiments; the whole English line resuming theoffensive, and pushed forward; the gigantic gap made in the French armyby the combined English and Prussian batteries; the extermination, thedisaster in front, the disaster on the flank, and the guard formingline amid this fearful convulsion. As they felt they were going todeath, they shouted, "Long live the Emperor!" History has nothing morestriking than this death-rattle breaking out into acclamations. The skyhad been covered the whole day, but at this very moment--eight o'clockin the evening--the clouds parted in the horizon, and the sinister redglow of the setting sun was visible through the elms on the Nivellesroad. It had been seen to rise at Austerlitz.
Each battalion of the Guard, for this _dénouement_, was commanded bya general; Friant, Michel, Roguet, Harlot, Mallet, and Pont de Morvanwere there. When the tall bearskins of the Grenadiers of the Guardwith the large eagle device appeared, symmetrical in line, and calm,in the twilight of this fight, the enemy felt a respect for France;they fancied they saw twenty victories entering the battlefield withoutstretched wings, and the men who were victors, esteeming themselvesvanquished, fell back; but Wellington shouted, "Up, Guards, and takesteady aim!" The red regiment of English Guards, which had been lyingdown behind the hedges, rose; a storm of canister rent the tricolorflag waving above the heads of the French; all rushed forward, and thesupreme carnage commenced. The Imperial Guard felt in the darknessthe army giving way around them, and the vast staggering of the rout:they heard the cry of "Sauve qui peut!" substituted for the "Vivel'Empereur!" and with flight behind them they continued to advance,hundreds falling at every step they took. None hesitated or evincedtimidity; the privates were as heroic as the generals, and not oneattempted to escape suicide.
Ney, wild, and grand in the consciousness of accepted death, offeredhimself to every blow in this combat. He had his fifth horse killedunder him here. Bathed in perspiration, with a flame in his eye andfoam on his lips, his uniform unbuttoned, one of his epauletteshalf-cut through by the sabre-cut of a horse-guard, and his decorationof the great Eagle dinted by a bullet,--bleeding, muddy, magnificent,and holding a broken sword in his hand, he shouted, "Come and see how amarshal of France dies on the battle-field!" But it was in vain; he didnot die. He was haggard and indignant, and hurled at Drouet d'Erlon thequestion, "Are you not going to get yourself killed?" He yelled amidthe roar of all this artillery, crushing a handful of men, "Oh, thereis nothing for me! I should like all these English cannon-balls toenter my chest!" You were reserved for French bullets, unfortunate man.