fire, which made them stagger; a second volley put them in a panic; and the Duke, galloping close up in their rear, called out, “Forward, Guards!” They advanced with three cheers, and rushed down the hill upon the French with pointed bayonets; but before they got within twenty yards, the hitherto unvanquished veteran Guards of France—the “Sacred Band” of their army—turned from the shock and fled. Ney fought sword in hand on foot; his clothes were pierced through with balls, and he was the last to quit the struggle. Napoleon’s only hope was gone. His army of yesterday, was now a splendid wreck. His own words best describe it—“It was a total rout.” Soon after, two large bodies of British cavalry were seen rapidly advancing on either flank, and the Prussians were closing up his rear; now was the time, had his spirit dictated it, to die a warrior’s death; but he said to Bertrand, who remained at his side, the fatal words, “All is over—it is time to save ourselves!" With ten or twelve attendants, he put spurs to his horse and fled, leaving to their fate the gallant army which had that day shed their blood for him with such profusion.
The British lost 15,000 men killed and wounded, 100 offieers were slain, and 500 wounded, many of them mortally; of the officers who fell many were highly distinguished. The Duke of Wellington was repeatedly in great danger—only himself, and one individual of his numerous staff, escaped unwounded in horse or person. The French loss cannot be calculated; but it was immense; for besides what they lost in the battle, many were cut down in the retreat—and of 75,000 men, the half were never again eolleeted in arms.
By the victory of this memorable day, the Duke of Wellington finished his military career of unequalled glory. Boundless joy—in spite of the heavy number of the brave men who had fallen—was felt at homo.
