endurance of offence; nothing so intolerable as to be incessantly assailed, and not permitted in turn to become assailants. A desperate struggle in a well-contested battle field, differs greatly from acting on the defensive, from holding a position, or from being attacked and not allowed to return the aggression of an enemy. There is an excited feeling when assailing, which stimulates even the weak-hearted, and drowns the thought of danger. The tumultuous enthusiasm of the assault spreads from man to man, and timid spirits catch a gallant frenzy from the brave. [Illustration: (end of chapter; decorative separator)] FOOTNOTES: [71] My gallant friend and companion in arms the general[72] who, on all occasions, from my attending him as orderly, at the close of the day of Waterloo, until his death, so kindly took me by the hand, thought that what had occurred at Marengo, (when Kellermann’s cavalry charged the advancing columns of Austrian grenadiers, and Desaix with a small force attacked their front and snatched a victory which the Austrians considered they had previously gained,) might probably take place at Waterloo, and was therefore most anxious to drive the enemy’s cavalry off, and prevent a like occurrence. [72] _See_ general Vivian’s letter, Appendix, No. VII, p. 274. [73] It was Halkett himself who marked out Cambronne, and having ridden forward at full gallop, was on the point of cutting down the French general, when the latter cried out for quarter and received it. This fact does not well agree with the words popularly ascribed to Cambronne, “_La garde meurt, et ne se rend pas_.” After having surrendered, Cambronne tried to escape from Halkett, whose horse fell wounded to the ground. But in a few seconds Halkett overtook his prisoner, and seizing him by the aiguillette, hurried him to the Osnabruckers, and sent him in charge of a sergeant to the duke of Wellington. Cambronne was subsequently sent to Ostend, with count de Lobau and other prisoners. It was only the old guard that wore the aiguillette. The words ascribed to Cambronne, “The guard dies, it never surrenders,” of which we see such numbers of engraving, and which illustrates so many pocket handkerchiefs, and ornaments so much of their crockery, etc., have, notwithstanding they were never uttered, made a fortune: all French historians repeat them. I am in possession of a letter, written to me by a friend of Cambronne’s, and who asked the general, whether it was true that he had uttered the words in question; the reply was, I quote Mr. E. S. Dickson’s own words, “_Monsieur, on m’a débité cette réponse_.” (“The answer has been placed to my account.”)