Further information soon arrived that the general commanding the brigade had been killed, and the 106th would have been entirely destroyed, had not the 92nd regiment, of its own accord, rushed forward to their aid, and sheltered and brought back the survivors. It was Napoleon himself that had given orders to his left wing to begin the attack furiously. Probably he thought that he would have been but half obeyed, and that he wished only to draw the attention of the enemy to that side. But he so multiplied his orders, and overstrained his excitements, that the attack, which he had planned as an oblique one, was directed against the front of the enemy. During this action, the Emperor judging that Poniatowski was already engaged on the old road to Moscow, had given the signal of attack before him. Suddenly, from that tranquil plain, and those silent hills, were seen shooting up volumes of fire and smoke, followed by a thousand explosions, and whistling of balls that tore the air in every direction. In the midst of this astounding noise, Davoust, with the divisions of Campans, Desaix, and thirty pieces of cannon in front, advanced rapidly on the first hostile redoubt. The fusillade of the Russians began, to which the French artillery alone replied. The infantry advanced without firing, wishing to arrive close to the enemy before pouring in a volley; but Campans, at the head of this column, and his bravest soldiers, fell wounded; the remainder, disconcerted, halted under this shower of balls in order to reply to it, when Rapp rushed forward to replace Campans; he hurried the soldiers forward, and brought their bayonets to the charge in double quick time against the enemy's redoubt. Already he himself the first had touched it when he was struck by a shot: this was his twenty second wound. A third general succeeded him, and also fell; Davoust himself was wounded. They bore Rapp to Napoleon, who said to him, Eh! what Rapp, always!' But what are they doing above there?' The aide-de-camp replied that the guard would be necessary to conclude the affair. No,' said Napoleon; I shall take good care not to let them go, I do not wish to see them destroyed. I shall gain the battle without that necessity. Ney then, with his three divisions reduced to ten thousand men, threw himself into the plain, and hastened to succour Davoust; the enemy divided their fire; Ney pushed on. The 57th regiment of Campans, seeing itself supported, recovered its ardour, and, making another desperate effort, attained the enemy's entrenchments, escaladed them, came up with the Russians, whom they drove before them at the point of the bayonet, killing those who still stood their ground. The remainder fled, and the 57th established themselves in the position they had conquered. At the same time Ney attacked the two other redoubts with such impetuosity that he wrested them from the enemy. It was now noon; the left of the Russian line thus forced, and the plain clear, the Emperor ordered Murat to lead the cavalry thither and finish the affair. In an instant this prince was seen upon the heights, and in the midst of the enemy, who had re-appeared there, for the second Russian line and some reinforcements, led by Bugawont and sent by Tuchkof, had come to support the first. All were hurrying forward to retake the redoubts. The French, who were still in the disorder of victory, were astounded, and retired. The Westphalians, whom Napoleon had despatched to aid Poniatowsky, were traversing the wood which separated the prince from the rest of the army, when they perceived through the dust and smoke our troops retrograding. From the direction of their march, they took them for the enemy, and fired upon them; the mistake, in which they persisted, increased the disorder. The enemy's cavalry followed up vigorously their good fortune; they surrounded Murat, who forgot himself while endea

vouring to rally his troop; already they had stretched out their hands to seize him, when he escaped by throwing himself into the redoubt; but there he only found a few frightened soldiers who had given themselves up for lost, and were running round the parapet seeking for an issue by which they might escape. The presence and exhortations of the king at first reassured some of them. He himself snatched up a weapon, and, while using it with one hand, with the other he raised and shook in the air his white plume, by which he brought together his troops, and reinspired them by the influence of his example with his former valour. At the same time, Ney had got his divisions into order. His fire checked the enemy's cuirassiers, threw confusion into their ranks, and they at length gave way; Murat was then relieved, and the heights reconquered.

6

"Napoleon was seen during this entire day either slowly pacing up and down or seated in front, and a little to the left of the redoubt which had been taken on the 5th, on the borders of a ravine, far from the battle, which he could scarcely perceive since it had moved beyond the heights: he seemed to feel no alarm when it re-appeared and approached him, and expressed no impatience either against his own troops or the enemy. He shewed only by signs a kind of sad resignation, when from time to time he was informed of his best generals. He rose frequently, walked a few paces, and then sat down again. Those around him looked upon him with astonishment. Hitherto during the shock of battle he was accustomed to evince a calm activity, but on this occasion it was a lethargic calm, a feeble mildness, devoid of activity. Some took it for that prostration of spirit, the usual result of violent sensations; others imagined that it arose from his mind having become blunted to every thing, even to the rapture of the fight.' The most zealous attributed his immobility to the necessity, which required that the commander-in-chief of an extensive line of military operations should not too often change his position, that the reports from his generals might easily reach him. Others, in fine, ascribed it to the more probable motives to the debilitated state of bad health, and his violent and severe indisposition. The generals of artillery, who were astonished at the inactivity in which they had been left, promptly took advantage of the permission they had just received to fight. They were soon seen upon the summit of the hills, whence eighty pieces of cannon were discharged at once. The Russian cavalry first advanced, but were soon broken and forced to take shelter behind their infantry. The infantry then came forward in thick masses, in which our balls made wide and deep fissures; and yet they continued to advance, when the French batteries, redoubling their fire, mowed them down with grape-shot. Whole platoons fell at once, and soldiers were seen endeavouring to keep together under this terrible fire; every moment blanks were made by death, but still they moved close to each other over the dead bodies of their comrades. At length they halted, not daring to advance farther, and yet not wishing to retire, whether it be that they were struck, and as if petrified with horror in the midst of this immense destruction, or that at the moment Bagration fell wounded; or that their first disposition failing, their generals were incapable of changing it, not possessing, like Napoleon, the difficult art of manoeuvring rapidly, and without confusion, such numerous bodies of troops. In fine, these inert masses allowed themselves for the space of two hours to be mowed down, without giving any signs of motion, but that occasioned by their fall. The massacre, upon this occasion was frightful, and the enlightened valour of our artillerymen wondered at the immobile, blind, and resigned courage of their enemies.

"It was towards four o'clock his last victory was gained; there had been several during the day: each division got the better of the enemy opposed to them, without being able to follow up their success, and decide the battle; for, not being in time supported by the reserve, they were obliged to stop short from exhaustion. But, at length, all the principal obstacles were surmounted. The noise of the artillery diminished, and was heard at a great distance from the Emperor's position, whither officers were hastening from all parts of the field. Poniatowski and Lecastiani, after a desperate struggle had also been victorious; the enemy had halted and retrenched themselves in a new position. It was late in the day, the ammunition exhausted, and the battle over. It was only then that the Emperor mounted his horse with difficulty, and rode slowly towards the heights of Semenowska. He found there a field of battle but incompletely gained, for the cannon-balls and even the bullets of the enemy still disputed it with us. In the midst of these spiritstirring sounds of war, and the still flaming ardour of Ney and Murat, Napoleon remained the same; his spirits sunk, his voice languishing, and addressing his victorious generals only to recommend prudence to them: after which he returned at a slow pace to his tent behind the battery, which had been carried two days before, and in front of which he had remained since morning, an almost motionless spectator of the vicissitudes of that terrible day.

"On entering his tent, he appeared not only enfeebled in body but prostrate in mind. The field of battle he had visited told in more convincing terms than his generals, that this victory, so long pursued, so dearly purchased, was incomplete. Was it him, who was accustomed to follow up his success to the last possible results, that Fortune was now found frigid and inactive when she offered him her last favours? For the loss was immense, and without proportionate result. Every one the Emperor had to deplore the death of a friend or of a relation, for the havoc had been great among the officers of high rank. Forty-three generals had been killed or wounded. What mourning in Paris! What triumph for his enemies! What a dangerous subject of meditation for Germany! In his army, even in his tent, victory appeared silent, sombre, isolated, neglected even by his flatterers! Those whom he sent for, Lumas, Daru, &c. listened to him, but replied not; but their attitude, their downcast looks, their silence was sufficiently intelligible. At ten o'clock, Murat, whom ten hours fighting had not tired, came to ask for the cavalry of the guard. The enemy,' said he, were passing hastily, and in disorder, the Moskowa; and he wished to surprise and destroy them.' The Emperor repressed this sally of immoderate ardour, and then dictated the bulletin of the day. He was pleased to inform Europe that neither himself nor his guard had been exposed. Some attributed this to an excess of self-love. Others, better informed, judged differently, for they had never seen him exhibit gratuitous vanity; they thought, that distant from France, and at the head of an army of foreigners, who could be kept together only by victory, he felt how indispensable it was to preserve untouched a chosen and devoted body of troops. Those who not lost sight of Napoleon during the whole of the day, were convinced that this conqueror of so many nations was vanquished by a burning fever. They then called to mind what he himself had written down fifteen years before in Italy. Health is indispensable to a soldier; its place can be supplied by no other quality;' and also an expression, unfortunately but too prophetic, which the Emperor made use of at the battle of Austerlitz, when he said, Oudinot is worn out; a man can make war but for a certain time; I myself shall be capable for six years more, after which I shall stop.'

"Prince Eugene Beauharnois and King Murat presided at the dreadful butchery of the Moskowa, like men who seemed to think there was no such thing as death,-Murat braved it like a ranting actor, and with a constitutional gaiety, which though a little de mauvaise ton, was all-powerful in its effect upon his soldiers. The extravagant costume of this theatrical king, the plume of feathers two feet high, dancing above his casque, and his headlong valour made him the admiration and rallying-point of his men. The bravery of Prince Eugene, who always preserved much of the marquis of the ancien regime,' was cold, simple, and de bon ton. It was remarked that his refinement of feeling was much shocked when, during some moments of the day, being on foot, he was obliged to march ankle-deep through the pools of blood that thickly intersected the plain.

SAVAGE THE POET.

Savage, that unfortunate genius, born, as he says,

"Of a mother, and yet no mother!"

who, after he had been allowed £200 per annum, by Lord Tyrconnel, which was taken unjustly from him; after he was pensioned by the queen on whom he had written verses, who feared to acknowledge him, on account of his shabby dress, so expressive of his circumstances, being at length arrested and thrown into Newgate, for the small sum of eight guineas, he bore this last misfortune with uncommon fortitude. Six months elapsed in prison, when he received a letter from Mr. Pope, on whose kindness he had the greatest confidence, and to whom he applied, charging him with ingratitude, drawn up in such terms as resentment dictated. Mr. Savage returned an answer, proving his innocence of the charge. The accusation, however, strongly affected his mind; he became immediately melancholy, and in a few days afterwards was seized with pains in his back and loins, which not being violent, he was not suspected to be in danger; but daily growing more languid and dejected, on the 20th of July, a fever seized upon his spirits. The last time the keeper saw him was on July the 31st, when he said with uncommon earnestness, "I have something to say to you, Sir;" but after a pause moved his hand in a melancholy manner, and finding himself unable to recollect what he was going to communicate, added, "It is over." The keeper soon after left him, and the next morning he was found dead.

and

RED-HEADED BANDITTI, OF MOWD-DWY.

The neighbourhood of Dinas Mowd-dwy, in Merionethshire, about the middle of the sixteenth century, was infested with a band of outlaws, who subsisted entirely by plunder and rapine. The gang was chiefly composed of desperadoes, who had been engaged in the wars of York and Lancaster, and being banished their own country, settled in this place, to the no small peril annoyance of all travellers. The spot they selected for the scene of their depredations, is one of peculiar beauty; rocks, woods, and mountains, intersected by the river Dovey, constitute the scenery in this part of Merionethshire; a situation well calculated to afford protection to a numerous and powerful band. Their operations were by no means confined to the robbery of the passing traveller; like the clan of the formidable Fergus Vich Jan Vohn, whole herds of cattle became the objects of their plunder; and so conscious were they of their own strength, that they would drive their prey to the woods

at noon day. So much were they dreaded, that the neighbours fixed scythes (some of which may be seen at this day) in their chimnies, to prevent their descent; and the usual road to Shrewsbury was totally deserted. Their villanies at length grew to such a pitch, that a commission was granted to Lewis Owen aud John Wynne, Esquires, (the former a Baron of the Exchequer, and Vice Chamberlain of North Wales; the latter gentleman of great property in Carnarvonshire,) to extirpate the banditti. They therefore raised a body of men, and on a Christmas Eve succeeded in taking about eighty of the outlaws, most of whom were hanged on the spot. Among the prisoners were two brothers who were about to be executed, when their mother stepped forward, and very earnestly iniplored the Baron to spare her children; he refused-when the old woman, uncovering her neck, and looking him steadfastly in the face, said to him, "These breasts have given suck to those who shall yet wash their hands in your blood!" And a short time afterwards, Baron Owen was murdered by the surviving ruffians, on the very spot (according to tradition,) were their comrades suffered the punishment due to their crimes. His son-in-law who accompanied him, fell a sacrifice to his bravery and affection to the Baron, whom he defended to the last; and it was not till deserted by all his attendants, and overpowered by assassins, that he gave up the contest. Such heroic courage merits this brief record. This transaction, however, was the cause of the utter extirpation of the whole gang-the most rigorous justice ensued; many were executed, the rest fled, and never returned. They were distinguished by the titles of Gwylaid-y-Ducoed, (the Banditti of the Black Wood, from their place of residence,) and Gwylaid-locheon Mowd-dwy, (the Red-headed Banditti, from their red caps which they constantly wore as a distinguishing mark.)

HEROIC FORTITUDE..

Charlotte Corday was tall and well-shaped, of the most graceful manners and modest demeanour : there was in her countenance, that which was beautiful and engaging, and in all her movements, a mixture of softness and dignity, which were evident indications of a superior mind. She came to Paris, and under a feigned pretext, gained admission to that chief of republican tyrants, Marat, in whose breast she plunged a dagger, acknowledged the deed, and justified it by asserting that it was a duty she owed her country and mankind to rid the world of a monster. Her deportment during the trial was modest and dignified. There was so engaging a softness in her countenance, that it was difficult to conceive how she could have armed herself with sufficient intrepidity to execute the deed. Her answers to the questions of the tribunal were full of point and energy. She sometimes surprised the audience by her wit, and excited their admiration by her eloquence. Her face sometimes beamed with sublimity, and was sometimes covered with smiles. She retired while the jury deliberated on their verdict; and when she again entered the tribunal there was a majestic solemnity in her demeanour which perfectly became her situation. She heard her sentence with attention and composure; and left the court with serenity, her mind being long before prepared even for the last scene. It is difficult to conceive the heroism which she displayed in the way to execution. There was such an air of chastened exultation thrown over her countenance, that she inspired sentiments of love rather than pity. The spectators as she passed uncovered their heads before her, and others gave loud tokens of applause. She ascended the scaffold with undaunted firmness. When the executioner informed her that her feet must be tied to