Class _IlAieS. 
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 APPLETON'S POPULAR LIBRARY. 
 
 OF THE BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 LIVES OF WELLINGTON AND PEEL. 
 
JUST PUBLISHED. 
 
 ESSAYS FROM ^HE LONDON TIMES ; 
 
 One Volume, 16mo. 50 Cents. 
 
 Containing Papers on Lady Hamilton, Dean Swift, the Frencti Revolution, 
 •fee, &C. 
 
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 One Volume, 16mo. 50 Cents. 
 
 Containing Papers on Alfred Tennyson, Dickens, and Thackeray, Grote's 
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 tions, Lord Langdale, Uncle Tom's Cabin. Nathaniel Hawthorne, &c 
 
WUliam B. Smith, 
 
 L I I*- S-gotanlc Garden, 
 
 MI.C. 
 
 OF 
 
 WELLOGTON AND PEEL. 
 
 FROM THE LONDON TIMES. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY. 
 
 1852. 
 
t 
 
 
 
PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The following Biographies appeared in the London 
 Times immediately upon the annoimcement of the 
 deaths of their illustrious subjects. They are here re- 
 printed in full, accompanied with the leading articles 
 from the same journal expressive of the sentiments of 
 the occasion. The newspaper of the day has probably 
 never afforded a more complete or distinguished con- 
 tribution to historical literature. The condensation of 
 facts is admirable, presenting what every reader of in- 
 telligence just now demands, an able and comprehen- 
 sive review of the many incidents of the career of Eng- 
 land's great soldier and statesman of the present century 
 Without seeking points of affinity in the course of the 
 two, or looking beyond the reader's convenience in the 
 preparation of this volume, there may yet be a pro- 
 priety in the arrangement of these biographies from the 
 personal relations of Peel and Wellington. 
 
 " It is an interesting foct," observes a London jour- 
 nal, " that when the first passages in the Peninsular 
 
PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 campaigns were severely criticised in Parliament, ayoimg 
 man, the son of a manufacturer, defended tliem again 
 and again with admirable talent and great readiness in 
 debate. This was -the late Sir Robert Peel, whose 
 epitaph the Duke of Wellington lived to speak nobly 
 and touchingly in the House of Lords. 
 New York, Oct., 1852. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Life of the Duke of "Wellington, .... 9 
 The Times Leadek of Sept. 15, 1852, . . . 170 
 
 The Times Leader on the Death of Peei^ . . .1*79 
 The Life of Sir Robert Peel, .... 189 
 
LIVES 
 
 OF 
 
 WELLINGTON AND PEEL. 
 
 ARTHUR WELLESLEY, 
 
 DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 It is a circumstance of rather iiiuisiial occurrence 
 that the day and place of a famous birth should be un- 
 known even to contemporary inquirers ; yet such is the 
 case on the present occasion. It is certain that the 
 Duke of Wellington was born in Ireland, and of an 
 Irish family, and that the year in which he saw the 
 light was that which ushered also Napoleon Bonaparte 
 into the world. For most purposes but those of astro- 
 logy these verifications of fact would be sufficient ; but 
 it is not unlikely that the event which has now thrown 
 Britain into mourning, may reanimate a controversy not 
 without its attractions to inquisitive minds. The 1st of 
 May, 1769, is specified, with few variations, as the birth- 
 day of Arthur Wellesley by those of his biographei-s 
 who venture on such circumstantiality, and Dangan 
 Castle, county of Meath, has been selected with similar 
 unanimity as the place of the event. The former of 
 Uiese statements has received a kind of confirmation by 
 the adoption of the Duke's name and sponsoi*ship for a 
 I* 
 
10 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Royal infant born on the day in question ; yet, in the 
 registry of St. Peter's Church, Dublin, it is duly record- 
 ed that "Arthur, son of the Right Hon. Eai-1 and 
 Countess of Moi-nington," was there christened by 
 "Isaac Maun, archdeacon, on the 30th of April, 1769." 
 This entry, while it conclusively negatives one of the 
 two foregoing presumptions, materially invalidates the 
 other also ; for, though not impossible, it is certainly not 
 likely that the infant, if born at Dangan, would have 
 been baptized in Dublin. Our own information leads 
 us to believe that the illustrious subject of this biogra- 
 phy fii'st saw the light in the town residence of his pa- 
 rents, Mornington-house, a mansion of some pretensions 
 in the centre of the eastern side of Upper Merrion-street, 
 Dublin, and which, as it abutted 80 years ago as a cor- 
 ner house upon a large area, since enclosed with build- 
 ings, was occasionally desciibed as situate in Merrion- 
 square. We are not inclined, however, to pursue a 
 question of which the most notable point is the indifter- 
 ence with which it was treated by the person most im- 
 mediately concerned. The Duke kept his birthday on 
 the 18th of June. 
 
 Two families, both English by original extraction, 
 and but Irish by settlement and adoption, were centred 
 in the lineage from which our great Captain sprung. 
 We shall be giving sufficient prominence to points pos- 
 sessing little beyond incidental interest if we state that 
 in the year 1*728 Richard Colley, of Castle Carbery, in 
 the county of Kildare, succeeded to the name and estates 
 of Garret Wesley, of Dangan Castle, in the county of 
 Meath. The Colleys had migrated in the 16th century 
 from Rutlandshire ; the Wesleys at an earlier date fi-om 
 
FAMILY NAME. H 
 
 Sussex. The two families had been already connected 
 by a recent alliance, so that Richard Colley was the 
 fii'st cousin of Garret Wesley, whose estates in default 
 of lineal issue he was called to inherit. The former of 
 these two names was indiscriminately specified as Coo- 
 ley, Colley, or Cowley ; the third of which forms ob- 
 tained the preference at a recent revival of the family 
 designation ; the latter was usually written Westley or 
 Wesley till 1797, when the first Marquis adopted the 
 orthography of Wellesley, now familiar to the world. 
 It was, however, as "Arthur Wesley" that the subject 
 of these memoii-s was first known as a soldier, and the 
 young officer will be found so designated in contempo- 
 rary descriptions of his earlier services. The double 
 notoriety attaching itself to the name of Wesley will be 
 suggestive, we doubt not, of some edifying thoughts, 
 and to the ready pen which chronicled both reputations 
 in the respective history of Methodism and the Peninsu- 
 lar War, we owe an anecdote curious enough to be 
 transcribed into our more concise biography. When 
 Charles, the brother of John Wesley, was at Westmin- 
 ster School, his father received a communication from 
 an Irish gentleman, oft'ering to adopt the boy as heir ; 
 but the overture, strange as it may seem, was declined. 
 It was for this Charles Wesley that Richard Colley was 
 substituted by the owner of Dangan, and thus, but for 
 a capricious and improbable transfer of fortune, " we 
 might," says Southey in his speculative reflections, "have 
 had no Methodists ; the British empire in India might 
 still have been menaced from Seringapatam, and the 
 undisputed tyrant of Europe miglit still have insulted 
 and threatened us on our own shores." The Richard 
 
 I 
 
12 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Colley thus favoured was created Baron Mornington, of 
 the Irish peerage, in 1746, a title which was exchanged 
 for an earldom, 14 years later, in ftivour of his son. 
 This second Lord Mornington, of musical celebrity, left 
 by his wife, Anne, daughter of Arthur Hill, Viscount 
 Dungannon, nine children surviving, of whom one be- 
 came Marquis Wellesley, one Baron Cowley, and one, 
 christened we presume after his maternal grandfather, 
 Duke of Wellington. 
 
 Arthur Wellesley, by the death of his father in 
 1*781, became dependent at an early age upon the care 
 and prudence of his mother, a lady, as it fortunately 
 happened, of talents not unequal to the task. Under 
 this direction of his studies he was sent to Eton, from 
 which college he was transferred, first, to private tuition 
 at Brighton, and subsequently to the military seminary 
 of Angers, in France. For the deficiency of any early 
 promise in the future hero we are not confined to nega- 
 tive evidence alone. His relative inferiority was the 
 subject of some concern to his vigilant mother, and had 
 its influence, as we are led to conclude, in the selection 
 of the military profession for one who displayed so little 
 of the family aptitude for elegant scholarship. At An- 
 gers, though the young student left no signal reputation 
 behind him, it is clear that his time must have been 
 productively employed. Pignerol, the director of the 
 seminary, was an engineer of high repute, and the op- 
 portunities of acquiring, not only professional knowledge, 
 but a serviceable mastery of the French tongue, were 
 not likely to have been lost on such a mind as that of 
 his pupil. Altogether, six years were consumed in this 
 iourse of education, which, though partial enough in 
 
FOUNDER OF HIS OWN FORTUNES, 13 
 
 itself, was so far in advance of the age that we may 
 conceive the young cadet to have carried with him to 
 his corps a more than average store of professional ac- 
 quirements. On the Yth of March, 1787, the Hon. 
 Arthur Wellesley, being then in his 18th year, received 
 his Qi'st commission as an ensign in the 73d Regiment 
 of Foot. The only point of interest in his position at 
 this minute is the degree of advantage over his contem- 
 poraries which might be derived from the family con- 
 nexions above described ; and a review of the facts will 
 lead, we think, to the conclusion that, though the young 
 officer commanded sufficient interest to bring his deserts 
 into immediate and favourable notice, he was not so 
 circumstanced as to rely exclusively on such considera- 
 tions for advancement. A French historian, indeed, 
 has indulged in a sneer at the readiness with which the 
 haughty aristocracy of Britain submitted themselves, in 
 after times, to the ascendancy of an Irish parvenu, but 
 this assumption is as little warrantable as that by which 
 the distinctions of the young cadet are attributed to the 
 nobility of his extraction. The pretensions of Arthur 
 Wellesley were insufficient, even at a somewhat later 
 period, to secure him from failure in that test of social 
 position — the choice of a wife ; nor could his opportu- 
 nities have produced more than commonplace^ success to 
 a man of ordinary capacity. On the other hand, they 
 relieved him from those risks of neglect and injustice 
 which must occasionally be fatal even to eminent worth, 
 and they carried him rapidly over those early stages in 
 which, under other circumstances, the fortunes of a life 
 might have been perhaps consumed. He possessed in- 
 terest enough to make merit available, but not enough 
 to dispense with it. , 
 
14 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 His promotion was accordingly rapid, but not more 
 so in its first stops tlian in examples visible at the pre- 
 sent day, and nuieh less so than in the case of some of 
 his contemporaries. He remained a subaltern four 
 years and three months, at the expiration of which 
 period of service he received his captaincy. The ho- 
 nour of having trained the Duke of Wellington would 
 be highly regarded in the traditions of any particular 
 corps, but so numerous and rapid were his exchanges 
 at this period that the distinction can hardly be claimed 
 by any of the regiments on the rolls of which he was 
 temporarily borne. He entered the array, as we have 
 said, in the TSd, but in the same year he moved, as 
 lieutenant, to the '76th, and within the next eighteen 
 months was transferred, still in a subaltern's capacity, 
 to the 41st foot and the I'Jth Light Dragoons, succes- 
 sively. On the 30th of June, 1791, he was promoted 
 to a captaincy in the oSth, from which corps he ex- 
 changed into the 18th Light l^ragoons in the October 
 of the following year. At length, on the 30th of April, 
 1T03, he obtained his majority in the 33d, a regiment 
 which may boast of considerable indentification with 
 his renown, for he proceeded in it to his lieutenant- 
 colonelcy and colonelcy, and commanded it pei-sonally 
 throughout tlie early stages of his active career. These 
 rapid exchanges bespeak the operation of somewhat un- 
 usual interest in pushing the young oflBcer forward ; 
 (or in those days a soldier ordinarily continued in the 
 corps to which he was first gazetted, and to which his 
 hopes, prospects, and connections were mainly confined. 
 So close, indeed, and permanent were the ties thus 
 formed, that when Colonel Wellesley's own comrade 
 
EARLY POSITION. 1^ 
 
 and commander, General Harris, was asked to name 
 the title by which he would desire to enter the peerage, 
 he could only refer to the 5th Fusihers as having been 
 for nearlv six and twenty years his constant home. 
 The brother of Lord Momington was raised above 
 these necessities. of routine; but what is chiefly notice- 
 able in the incidents described is that the period of his 
 probationary service was divided between cavalry and 
 infontry alike— a circumstance of some advantage to so 
 observant a mind. 
 
 Before the active career of the young oiheer com- 
 menced he was attached as aide-de-camp to the staft of 
 the Earl of Westmoreland, then Lord-Lieutenant of Ir^ 
 land, and in 1790, having just come of age, he was re- 
 turned to the L-ish Parliament for the f^^mily borough 
 of Trim. The most eager researches into this period ot 
 his career, have not elicited any thing to prove that he 
 was distinguished from those around him. In one par- 
 ticuhxr, indeed, he shared the failings common to his 
 class and times, after a fashion singularly contrasted 
 ^vith the subsequent developments of his character. 
 Captain Wellesley got seriously into debt. So pressmg, 
 in fact, ^v^re his obligations, that he accepted tempo- 
 rary relief from a bootmaker in whose house he lodged ; 
 and before quitting England on foreign service confided 
 the arrangement of his atfairs to another Dublin trades- 
 man, whom he empowered for this purpose to receive 
 the disposable portion of his income. 
 
 At lenc^th, in the month of May, 1V94, Ar hur 
 Welleslev, being then in his twenty-sixth year and m 
 command of the. 33d Regiment-a position which he 
 owed to his brother's hberality-embarked at Cork lor 
 
16 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 service on the continent of Europe, so that his first 
 active duties involved great independent responsibility. 
 The aspect of affairs at that period was unpromising in 
 the extreme. War had been declared about twelve 
 months previously between England and France, and 
 10,000 British troops, under the command of the Duke 
 of York, had been despatched to aid the operations of 
 the Allied Powers in the Low Countries. It would be 
 difficult to impress an Englishman of the present gene- 
 ration with a true conception of the character and repu- 
 tation of the British army at that period. Forty yeai-s 
 had elapsed since the appearance of any considerable 
 English force on the European continent, and the recol- 
 lections of the campaigns in question were not calcu- 
 lated to suggest any high opinions of British prowess. 
 In fact, the Duke of Cumberland had been systematically 
 beaten by Marshal Saxe, and the traditions of Marl- 
 borough's wars had been obliterated by contests in 
 which the superiority of the French soldiery seemed to 
 be declared. The ascendancy, too, so signally acquired 
 at this time by our navy tended to confirm the im- 
 pressions referred to, and it was argned that the ocean 
 had been clearly marked out as the exclusive scene of 
 our preponderance. Throughout a great part of the 
 century these opinions had been rather justified than 
 belied by our own proceedings. AVe fought many of 
 our colonial battles with mercenaries, and we hired 
 German battalions even to defend our coasts and pro- 
 tect the established succession of the Throne. A new 
 school of war, to which the attention of the reader will 
 be presently directed, was, indeed, forming in the East; 
 but its influence was hardly yet known, and the Duke 
 
THE DUKE OF VORKS REPULSE. 17 
 
 of York's corps was disembarked at Osteiid with, per- 
 haps, less prestige than any division of the alHed army. 
 Though the exertions of the Royal commander had al- 
 ready been directed, and with some success, to military 
 reforms, yet the conditions of the service were still 
 miserably bad. The commissariat was wretched, the 
 medical department shamefully ineffective, and rapa- 
 city, peculation, and mismanagement prevailed to a 
 most serious extent. Such was the army which Colonel 
 Wellesley proceeded to join. It was no wonder that 
 English as well as Imperialists were worsted by Repub- 
 lican levies, not only numerically superior, but whose 
 system confounded all received tactics as utterly as the 
 campaigns of Charles VIII. in Italy demolished the 
 conceptions of medianal warl^ire. The Duke of York 
 was repulsed in a series of engagements w^hich we need 
 not describe, and it was in aid of his discomfited force 
 that Colonel Wellesley cariied out the 33d Regiment 
 to the scene of his first, as well as of his last service — 
 the plains of Belgium. 
 
 The first military operation performed by the con- 
 queror of Waterloo was the evacuation of a town in the 
 face of the enemy. The 33d had been landed at Os- 
 tend ; but when Lord Moira, who had the chief com- 
 mand of the reinforcements sent out, arrived at that 
 port with the main bodv, he saw reason for promptly 
 withdrawing the garrison and abandoning the place. 
 Orders were issued accoi-dingly, and though the Repub- 
 licans, under Pichegru, were at the gates of the town 
 before the English had quitted it, the 33d was safely 
 embarked. Lord Moira by a flank march eftected a 
 timely junction with the Duke of York at Maline.s. 
 
18 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Colonel Wellesley took his corps round by the Scheldt, 
 and landed at Antwerp, whence he moved without de- 
 lay to the head-quarters of the Duke. This was in Ju- 
 ly, 1*794. The operations which followed, and which 
 terminated in the following spring with the re-embar- 
 catiou of the British troops at Bremerlehe, a town at 
 the mouth of the Weser, constituted Arthur Wellesley's 
 first campaign. They do not, for the purposes of our 
 memoir, require any circumstantial description. The 
 total force of the Allied Powers was strong, but it was 
 extended over a long line of country, composed of he- 
 terogeneous troops, and commanded by generals, not 
 only independent, but suspicious of each other's deci- 
 sions. In the face of an enemy, first animated by des- 
 peration and then intoxicated by success, there existed 
 no unity of plan or concert of movements. After the 
 defeat sustained by the Austrians at Fleurus the cam- 
 paign was resolved into retreat on the part of the Allies 
 and pursuit of fortune on the part of the French. The 
 Austrians were on the middle Rhine, the British on the 
 Meuse. The route taken by the Duke of York in his 
 successive retirements from one position to another lay 
 tlirough Breda, Bois le Due, and Nimeguen, at which 
 latter place he maintained himself against the enemy 
 with some credit. Early in December, however, he re- 
 signed his command to General Walmoden, and re- 
 turned to England, leaving the unfortunate division to 
 struggle with even greater difliculties than they had yet 
 experienced. Disengaged by repeated triumphs from 
 their Austrian antagonists, the Republican forces closed 
 in tremendous strength round the English and their 
 comrades. The winter set in with such excessive severi- 
 
FIRST CAMPAIGN. 19 
 
 ty that the rivers were passable for the heaviest class of 
 cannon, provisions were scanty, and little aid was forth- 
 coming from the inhabitants against either the inclem- 
 ency of tlie season or the casualties of war. It was 
 found necessary to retire into Westphalia, and in this 
 retreat, which was commenced on the 15th of January, 
 1795, the troops are said to have endured for some 
 days privations and sufferings little short of those en- 
 countered by the French in the Moscow campaign. So 
 deep was the snow that all ti'aces of roads were lost, 
 wagons laden with sick and wounded were unavoidably 
 abandoned, and to straggle from the column was to 
 perish. The enemy were in hot pursuit, and the popu- 
 lation undisguisedly hostile to their nominal allies. At 
 length the Yssel was crossed, and the troops reposed 
 for awhile in cantonments along the Ems ; but as the 
 French still prepared to push forward, the alhed force 
 continued its retreat, and as they entered Westphalia 
 tlie tardy appearance of a strong Prussian corps secured 
 them from further molestation till the embarcation took 
 place. 
 
 Such was the Duke of Wellington's first campaign. 
 Whatever might have been the actual precocity of his 
 talent, there was obviously no room in such operations 
 for the exercise on his part of anything beyond intrepidi- 
 ty and steadiness, and these qualities, as we learn, were 
 made visibly manifest. His post was that which in a 
 retreat is the post of honour — the rearguard. The com- 
 mand of a brigade devolved on him by seniority, and 
 the able dispositions of Colonel Wellesley in checking' 
 the enemy or executing an assault are circumstances of 
 special remark in contemporary accounts of the trans- 
 
'JO 
 
 THE DIKE OF ^VE1.L1^•GT0N. 
 
 actions. In partiouhir, the affaii-s of Druyten, Moteren, 
 and Geldermansel, are mentioned uith some detail, as 
 reflecting considerable credit on the 33d and its com- 
 mander. Beyond this point Colonel \^'ellesley's repn- 
 t^ntion was not extended, but Ave may readily imagine 
 how material a portion of his professional character might 
 have been formed in this Dutch campaign. Irrespec- 
 tively of the general uses of advei'sity, the miscarriages 
 of this ill-starreii expedition must have been fraught 
 with invaluable lessons to the future heiv. He observeil 
 the absolute need of undivided authority in an enemy's 
 presence, and the hopelessness of all such imperfect 
 combinations as State jealousies stiggested. We are 
 justitied in inferring from his subsequent demonstrations 
 of character tbat no error escaped either his notice or 
 his memory, lie saw a powerful force frittered away 
 by divisions, and utterly routed by an enemy which but 
 a few months before had been scared at the very news 
 of its approach. He saw the indispensability of pieserv- 
 ing discipline in a friendly country, and of conciliating 
 the dispositions of a local population, always powerful 
 for good or evil. Though a master hand was wantiiig 
 at head-quart el's, yet Abercromby was present, and the 
 young Picton was making his tii-st essay by the side of 
 his future comrade. Austrian, Pi'ussian, Hanoverian, 
 French, Dutch, and British wei'e in the field together, 
 and the care exemplitied in appointing and piwisioning 
 the respective battalions might K^ serviceably contrasted. 
 Every check, every repulse, every privation, and every 
 loss brought, we may be sure, its enduring moral to Ar- 
 thur AVellesley ; and although Englishmen may not re- 
 flect without emotion on the destiuios which were thus 
 
ILL HEALTH. 21 
 
 perilled in the swamps of Holland, the future General 
 had perhaps little reason to repine at the rug-ged tuition 
 of his iii-st campaign. 
 
 On the return of the expedition to England the 3od 
 was landed at Harwich, and for a short time encamped 
 at Warley, whore it soon recovered its effective strength. 
 In the autumn of the same year Colonel Wellesley con- 
 ducted his corps to Southampton, where it was embark- 
 ed on board the outward-bound fleet, under the flag of 
 Admiral Christian. The destination of the force was 
 the AYest Indies, but through a series of accidents so re- 
 markable as to acquire, in conjunction w4th subsequent 
 events, a providential character, the orders were ulti- 
 mately changed, and the services of the young Colonel 
 were employed on a scene far better calculated to devel- 
 ope his military genius. For some time the winds were 
 so adverse that the vessels were unable to quit the port 
 at all, and when they had at length succeeded in put- 
 ting to sea they encountered such tempestuous weather 
 as to be finally compelled, after experiencing serious 
 casualties, to return to Portsmouth. Meantime new exi- 
 gencies had arisen, and in the spring of 1796 the wea- 
 ther-beaten 33d received directions to embark for Ben- 
 gal. At this critical period, however, the health of 
 Colonel AVellesley suddenly foiled him. Considering 
 that strength of constitution and temperament with 
 which we have since become familiar, it is remarkable 
 to observe how repeatedly the Iron Duke, in earlier 
 days, was attacked, and apparently almost mastered, 
 by debility and sickness. On the present occasion he 
 w'as actually unable to embark with his regiment, but a 
 favourable change afterwards supervened, and he sue- 
 
22 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 ceeded in joining the corps at the Cape of Good Hope. 
 The remainder of the voyage was soon completed, and 
 in February, 1 Y 97, Arthur Wellesley landed at Calcutta 
 to commence in earnest that career of service which 
 will reflect such eternal lustre on his name. 
 
 Before recounting those memoi'able campaigns by 
 which our empire in the East was finally established, it 
 will be desirable to premise some intelligible description 
 of the scenes and persons to which Colonel Wellesley 
 was now introduced. Half the unpopularity attributed 
 to Indian history resides in the strangeness of Oriental 
 names, and we are pei-suaded that any reader of ordi- 
 nary attention who would familiarise himself with the 
 geographical expressions and family titles current in 
 these parts, would afterwards comprehend the affairs of 
 India with as much readiness as those of any European 
 country. 
 
 In 1*797 there still existed, and in something more 
 than name, a Great Mogul, that is to say, a representa- 
 tive of that Mogul or Tartar dynasty which since the 
 commencement of the 16th century had established it- 
 self in the Imperial Sovereignty of India. He was not, 
 however, directly possessed of any substantial power, 
 though there was eager competition for the exercise of 
 his traditional authority. He resided at Delhi, and in 
 histories of this period is often termed '' the King," a 
 title which, though afterwards conferred by us on the 
 Nabob of Oude, was long considered in India as the 
 exclusive property of the supreme territorial lord. The 
 power lost by this monarch in the decline of his domin- 
 ion had been seized by two classes of people — his own 
 lieutenants, who had converted their governments into 
 
IN INDIA. 23 
 
 independent heritages ; and his Hindoo subjects, who 
 had embraced the opportunity of renouncing an alle- 
 giance which they had never willingly or perhaps abso- 
 lutely acknowledged. Of the former class were the 
 Nabobs of Oude and Bengal in Hindostan, i e., in that 
 part of India, commonly so called, which is north of the 
 Nerbudda river, and the still more powerful lieutenant 
 who administered singly the whole of the " Deccan " 
 or "South," under which designation was nominally 
 comprised almost all the southern portion of the penin- 
 sular exclusive of " the Carnatic," a name attached to 
 its south-eastern districts between the river Kistnah and 
 Cape Comorin. The first of these Princes was usually 
 termed " the Nabob-Vizier," or " Vizier," in conse- 
 quence of that office having been monopolised by his 
 family during the decline of the Mogul empire. The 
 second, the " Nabob " or " Subahdar " of Bengal, had 
 been conquered by us at Plassey, and we had virtually 
 assumed his inheritance ourselves. The third, he of 
 the Deccan, was termed " the Nizam," or " Lieutenant," 
 — a title which had been given purely for personal dis- 
 tinction to the first Viceroy of this pro\ince on his ac- 
 cepting office, but which had been perpetuated in favour 
 3f his successors, as we see to this day. The Carnatic 
 was not held immediately of the Mogul Sovereign, but 
 of his lieutenant in the Deccan, who thus claimed the 
 allegiance of a feudatory not greatly inferior to himself. 
 The Prince in question was called the Nabob of the 
 Carnatic, or, more familiarly, from his place of resi- 
 dence, the Nabob of Arcot. These were the Mahome- 
 tan Powers with which we had then to deal. 
 
 The Hindoo pretenders to dominion were represent- 
 
24 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 ed by the Mahrattas, a powerful and warlike tribe of 
 the Malabar coast, which had successfully resisted the 
 great Aiiruugzebe, and which had turned to such profit 
 the imbecility of his successors as to have almost reviv- 
 ed in their own favor the Imperial claims of the Mo- 
 guls themselves. They had extended their power by 
 dispatching their great captains in vaijous directions on 
 the common errand of conquest ; such conquests to be 
 retained by the individual victors on condition of alle- 
 giance and tribute payable to the supreme family. 
 This family held court originally at Sattara, under a 
 title which has been made familiar to the present gene- 
 ration by the importunities of its soi-disant representa- 
 tive ; but the Rajahs of Sattara had been superseded in 
 all effective or cognizable authority by the " Peishwa " 
 oi* " chief " of their own privy council — an office which 
 had been made hereditary in a particular family, and 
 to which the pnncely power had been wholly transfer- 
 red. The Peishwa resided at Poonah, but his lieuten- 
 ants had already assumed an independence little less 
 substantial than that of the Mogul viceroys just describ- 
 ed. One named Scindiah, then the most formidable of 
 the cousinhood, had established himself in Malwa, and 
 was pretending to extraordinary dominion in western 
 Hindostan ; another, named Ilolkar, had set up his 
 standard a little to the south of Scindiah, in the town 
 of Indore ; the Bhonsla family were settled with great 
 possessions at Nagpore, in the north-east of the Deccan ; 
 and the " Guicowar," or " herdsman," was installed in 
 the government of Guzerat, contiguous to the Peishwa's 
 territory. Of this great and formidable Mahratta con- 
 federacy only two members now survive as substantive 
 
HINDOO PRINCIPALITIES. 26 
 
 powers of India — the Guicowar, still called by his an- 
 cestral appellative ; and the Nagpore prince, at present 
 styled the Rajah of Berai* ; the Peishwa's prerogatives 
 having been extinguished and absorbed by Lord Hast- 
 ings in 1819, and Scindiah and Holkar having succumb- 
 ed in the stubborn contests which we shall have pre- 
 sently to recount It will further be requisite to men- 
 tion that an inconsiderable Hindoo principality in the 
 south had been usurped by a Mahometan adventurer, 
 who was consolidating an inheritance with true Oriental 
 success, a"nd that the Abdalla empire, founded about 
 40 years previously in Affghanistan, was still vigorously 
 administered by Zemaum Shah, the identical prince 
 visited by our own generals but the other day. Our 
 remarks refer to a period of Indian history so compara- 
 tively early, that any actor in these half-forgotten scenes 
 appears like a phantom of the past ; but it will stimu- 
 late our interest in the subject before us, if we endeavour 
 to realize to our own imaginations that the grey-headed 
 old soldier who but yesterday was riding down White- 
 hall was the identical hero who fifty years since drove 
 Dowlut Rao to capitulate, and packed oft' Dhoondiah on 
 the carriage of a galloper gun. It is strange that the 
 commander of an army should be one of its last survi- 
 vors. 
 
 The position of the Indian Government relatively to 
 the Home Administration was not, when Colonel Wel- 
 lesley arrived in those parts, materially difterent from 
 that which exists at present. The great step of iden- 
 tifying these prodigious acquisitions with the dominions 
 of the British Crown had virtually been taken already ; 
 and Lord Cornwallis, in the last war, had wielded, to 
 2 
 
26 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Tippoo's cost, the resources of'an Empire instead of the 
 arms of a Company. A few years earlier India had 
 scarcely been reputed among the fields open to the sol- 
 diers of the British army, and regiments were reluc- 
 tantly despatched to quarters not looked upon at first 
 with any favourable eye. But the scene had been 
 changed by late achievements ; and though a com- 
 mand in India was not what it has since become, it 
 was an object of reasonable ambition. Napoleon pre- 
 tended, even after the victories of Seringapatam and 
 Assaye, to slight the sei-vices of a " sepoy general," but 
 Wellesley established for the school, in the eyes of all 
 Europe, a reputation which it has never since lost. 
 
 Small as were the anticipations of such active ser- 
 vice which the young Colonel could have entertained at 
 his first landing in India, a few months saw him in the 
 field with his corps against a resolute and formidable 
 enemy. By a notable instance of fortune, the elder 
 brother of Arthur Wellesley was nominated to the Gov- 
 ernor-Generalship of India within a few months after the 
 subject of these memoiis had arrived at Calcutta, and 
 the talents of a most accomplished statesman were thus 
 at hand to develope and reward the genius of the rising 
 soldier. Lord Mornington, like many of his successors, 
 went out in the confident expectation of maintaining 
 peace, but found himself engaged in hostiHties against 
 his most ardent desire. At that time the three Presi- 
 dencies of India shared pretty evenly between them the 
 perils and prospects of active service in the field. Ben- 
 gal, since the definite submission of Oude, had been 
 comparatively quiet ; but it was the Imperial presidency, 
 and its troops were held readily disposable for the exi- 
 
POLITICAL INFLUENCES. 27 
 
 gencies of the others. Bombay vibrated with every 
 convulsion of the Mahratta States, by which it was sur- 
 rounded; and Madras, in earh'er times the leading gov- 
 ernment, had recovered much of its importance from 
 the virtual absorption of the Carnatic, the formidable 
 resources and uncertain disposition of the Nizam, and, 
 above all, the menacing attitude of Tippoo Sultaun, 
 the adventurer of Mysore. It was against this barbaric 
 chieftain that the spurs of Arthur Wellesley were won. 
 When the two brothers met at Calcutta, in 1798, 
 the principal risk of war was created by the unruly 
 resentments of Tippoo. Oude had been subdued; Ben- 
 gal was our own ; the Carnatic had been absorbed, and 
 the Nizam of the Deccan, like the other Prinzes still in- 
 dependent, w^as trimming between the British alliance 
 and that of States whom he dreaded still more than 
 ourselves. There still remained, however, a considerable 
 element of French influence in the peninsula. We had, 
 it is true, definitely expelled these dangerous rivals by 
 the capture of Pondicherry in 1761, and they no lon- 
 ger worked openly on their own account; but the 
 Nizam maintained an imposing force disciplined by 
 more than 100 French officers, under M. Raymond, 
 and Scindiah employed with similar views the services 
 of General Perron. It can be little matter of surprise, 
 therefore, that the dread of French influence should still 
 predominate at Madras, and it Avas the assumed iden- 
 tification of Tippoo with these inveterate antagonists of 
 Britain which rendered the wars with him, and with 
 him only of all Indian Princes, so generally popular at 
 home. 
 
 Tippoo had recently made peace with the Company, 
 
28 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 but the treaty as regarded his stipulations was so essen- 
 tially of a penal character that his patient acquiescence 
 in its operation was not to be expected, though Lord 
 Mornington, as we have seen, did both desire and an- 
 ticipate a perpetuation of the truce. Within a very few 
 weeks, however, of his arrival at the seat of his govern- 
 ment, he learnt that the Mysore Sultaun had been ac- 
 tively intriguing with the French for the purpose of 
 expelling us from the Peninsula. It is more likely, 
 perhaps, that this idea should have been suggested to 
 Tippoo by some one of the many Frenchmen still lurk- 
 ing in India than that the Oriental despot should of 
 himself have descried the resources presented to him by 
 the unscrupulous ambition of the Republican Directory. 
 However this may be, he undoubtedly despatched am- 
 bassadors with this object to the Mauritius, the nearest 
 French settlement, and these envoys actually disem- 
 barked at Mangalore on their return voyage, with a 
 body of European recruits, at the very moment that the 
 new Governor-General on his way to Calcutta touched 
 at Madras. It does not fall within our purpose to dis- 
 cuss the respective cases of the belligerents. It is enough 
 to remark that Tippoo's suspicions of ourselves were 
 most cordially reciprocated, and that this new dynasty 
 of Mysore had been always regarded, both in India and 
 at home, with excessive jealousy and alarm. A war 
 with Tippoo was counted as a life and death struggle, 
 and although the last campaign of Cornwalhs had pretty 
 clearly prognosticated the ultimate issue, yet the whole 
 resources of the Indian Government were now sum- 
 moned as to a deadly strife. Those resolutions nearly 
 affected the rising fortunes of Arthur Wellesley. On 
 
NEW SCENE OF DUTY. ^9 
 
 landing, as we have seen, at Calcutta in February, 
 1*797, he had been despatched upon an expedition di- 
 rected against Manilla, but transports sailed slowly in 
 those days, and by the time that the several vessels had 
 arrived at their fii-st rendezvous the alarm had been 
 given at Madras, and they were overtaken by a pe- 
 remptory recall. Each Presidency mustered its whole 
 strength for the conflict, and as a reinforcement of that 
 most immediately menaced, the 33d was transferred 
 from Bengal and placed upon the Madras establishment. 
 On this new scene of duty Colonel Wellesley arrived in 
 September, 1798. 
 
 It had happened, and, as we may reasonably con- 
 clude, by something more than accident, that the young 
 Colonel was already well acquainted with the future 
 theatre of war. On returning from the Straits he had 
 paid a visit to Lord Hobart, then Governor of Madras. 
 His stay extended over a few weeks only ; but this 
 sliort period had enabled him to cast his eagle glance 
 over the military establishments of that Presidency, 
 and over the various capabilities of the Carnatic. He 
 brought, therefore, to the duties which he now assumed, 
 information of a most serviceable character. The Com- 
 mander-in-Chief at Madras was General, afterwards 
 Lord Harns, under whose auspices Colonel Wellesley 
 was stationed at Wallajahbad, with the responsible 
 commission of organizing, equipping, and practising 
 the forces of the Presidency destined for the expedition. 
 Ths state of feeling in India at that period partook of 
 no such confidence as was afterwards displayed. The 
 troops at the Governor's command were neither numer- 
 ous nor well provided ; the resources of the Treasury 
 
30 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 were scanty, and the alliances of the Company had been 
 seriously damaged by the temporizing and ungenerous 
 policy of the late Governor-General, Sir John Shore. 
 Moreover, although the last campaign had been un- 
 doubtedly successful in its results, recollections of a dis- 
 agreeable character were created by its vast consump- 
 tion of blood and treasure, and by the perils of mis- 
 carriage which had been experienced in its coui-se. It 
 is natural enough from our present point of view to 
 consider these apprehensions as having been unduly 
 magnified, but it should be remembered at the very 
 moment when Colonel Wellesley was ordered to Ma- 
 dras, Bonaparte had actually disembarked a French 
 army on the shores of Egypt, and had put himself in 
 communication with Tippoo — fiicts quite menacing 
 enough to warrant unusual misgivings. The strength, 
 too, of the Mysore army gave at least 70,000 troops, 
 admirably equipped, and in no contemptible state of 
 discipline, while tlie Madnis muster rolls showed a total 
 of no more tlian 14,000 of all arms, including less tlian 
 4,000 Europeans. In f;\ct. Lord Mornington had been 
 compelled to exchange the scheme of attack originally 
 contemplated for a more cautious and regular exertion 
 of his strength. With these reluctant conclusions 
 he ordered General Harris to stand on the defensive 
 along the Mysore frontier, and to augment the efficiency 
 of his army by all available means, while he turned his 
 own attention to the native Courts, whose alliance or 
 neutrality it was desirable to secure. 
 
 That nothing on his part might be wanting to the 
 success of the enterprise, he had transferred himself and 
 his staff from Calcutta to Madras, and the effects of 
 
ORGANIZATION AND EQUIPMENT. 31 
 
 his policy and his presence were quickly discernible in 
 the impulse communicated to every department of the 
 service, and the restoration of energy and confidence 
 throughout the Presidency. Those efforts were admi- 
 rably seconded by the practical exertions of his brother 
 at Wallajahbad. So effectually had Colonel Wellesley 
 employed the three months of his local command, that 
 the division under his charge from being weak and ill 
 provided had become conspicuous for its organization 
 and equipment, and when the whole arm)'- presently 
 took the field in unparalleled efficiency, the especial ser- 
 vices of Colonel Wellesley in bringing about this result 
 were acknowledged in a general order of the Comman- 
 der-in-Chief. The whole force now put in motion 
 against the famous Tiger of Mysore comprised three di- 
 visions — that of the Carnatic, 30,000 strong, that of 
 Bombay, two-thirds less numerous, and the contingent 
 of our ally, the Nizam. The latter consisted of the 
 British detachment in the Nizam's service, of a few 
 battalions of his own infantry, including some of M. 
 Raymond's force lately disbanded, and of a large body 
 of cavalry. To complete the efficiency of this power- 
 ful division it was resolved to add a King's regiment 
 to its rolls, and at the express wish of the Nizam's Min- 
 ister, coupled with the prompt approval of General 
 Harris, Colonel Wellesley's corps was selected for this 
 duty, and on him the general coinmand of the whole 
 contingent was suffered to devolve. By these arrange- 
 ments, which were to the unqualified satisfaction of all 
 parties concerned. Colonel Wellesley assumed a promi- 
 nent place in the conduct of the war, and enjoyed op- 
 portunities of displaying both his special intelligence 
 
32 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 and his intuitive military powei-s. Few opportunities 
 indeed could be better calculated for the full develop- 
 ment of his genius. He held a command sufficiently 
 independent to elicit all his talents ; he formed one of 
 the political commission attached to the Commander-in- 
 Chief; and he acted imder the eyes of a Governor 
 whose acuteness in discerning merit and promptitude 
 in rewarding it were quickened on this occasion by the 
 natural impulses of affection. Nor were there wanting 
 in the same ranks either models of excellence or stout 
 competitors for fome. Besides Harris himself, there 
 were Baird and Cotton, Dallas and Brown, Floyd and 
 Malcolm — soldiers all of them of high distinction and 
 extraordinary renown, who either sought or staked a 
 professional reputation in this memorable war against 
 Tippoo Sultaun. 
 
 By the end of February, 1799, the invading forces 
 had penetrated into the dominions of Mysore, though 
 so difficult was the country and so insufficient, notwith- 
 standing tlie previous preparations, were the means of 
 transport, that half-a-dozen miles constituted an ordi- 
 nary day's march, and three weeks were consumed in 
 conveying intelligence from the western division of the 
 army to the eastern. The first movements of Tippoo 
 from his central position had been judiciously directed 
 against the weaker corps which was advancing from 
 Cananore, but in his attempt on this little force he was 
 signally repulsed ; on which, wheeling to the right 
 about, and retracing his steps, he brought himself foce 
 to face with the main army under General Harris near 
 Malavelly, a place within 30 miles of his capital city, 
 Seringapatam. His desires to engage were promptly 
 
BEFORE SEKINGAPATAM. 33 
 
 met by the Britisli Commander, who received his at- 
 tack with the right wing of the army, leaving the left, 
 which was composed of the Nizam's contingent under 
 Colonel Wellesley, to charge and turn the flank of the 
 enemy opposed to it. Colonel Wellesley's dispositions 
 for this assault were speedily made, and, having been 
 approved by General Harris, were executed with com- 
 plete success. The conduct of the 33d decided the action. 
 Knowing that if he could break the European regi- 
 ment the native battalions might be expected to despair, 
 the Sultaun directed a column of his choicest troops 
 against Colonel Wellesley's corps ; which, reserving its 
 fire till the enemy had closed, delivered a searching 
 volley, charged, and threw the whole column into a 
 disorder which the sabres of the Dragoons were not 
 long in converting to a rout. After this essay it was 
 clear that the campaign would turn upon the siege 
 of the capital, and on the 4tli of April the army, by 
 the judicious strategy of Harris, arrived in eftective 
 condition before the ramparts of Seringapatam. 
 
 Between the camp of the besiegers and the walls 
 of this famous fortress stretched a considerable extent 
 of irregular and broken ground, aftbrding excellent 
 cover to the enemy for annoying the British lines with 
 musketry and rocket practice. At one extremity was a 
 "tope" or grove called the Sultaunpettah tope, com- 
 posed mainly of betel trees, and intersected by numer- 
 ous water-courses for the purposes of irrigation. The 
 first operations of the besiegers were directed to the 
 occupation of a position so peculiarly serviceable to the 
 party maintaining it. Accordingly, on the night of the 
 4th General Baird was ordered to scour this tope — a 
 2* 
 
34 THE DUKE OF WKLLlNtaUN. 
 
 commission wliicli he discharged without encountering 
 any opposition. Next morning Tippoo's troops were 
 again seen to occupy it in great force, on which General 
 Harris resolved to repeat the attack on the succeeding 
 night, and to retain the position when carried. The 
 duty was intrusted on this occasion to Colonel AYellos- 
 ley of the 33d and a native battalion, who was to be 
 supported by another detachment of similar strength 
 under Colonel Shawe. This was the famous alfair of 
 Avhich so much has been said, and which, with such 
 various colourings, hjis been described as the first serv- 
 ice of Arthur, Duke of WelUngton. On receiving the 
 order. Colonel AVellesley addressed to his commander 
 the following note, remarkable j\s being the first of that 
 series of despatches which now constitute so extraordi- 
 nary a monument of his fame : — 
 
 "to UKITENANT-GENKBAL HARRIS, COMMANDER-IN-CHIKF. 
 
 " Camp, 5th April, 1*799. 
 " My pkau Sir, — I do not know whore you mean tlie post 
 to bo ostablishod, aiui I sluill therefore be obliged to you if you 
 will do mo the favour to meet me this afternoon in front of the 
 lines and show it to mc. In the meantime I will order my 
 battalion to be in readiness. 
 
 "• Upon looking at the tope as 1 eame in just now, it ap- 
 peared to me that when you get possession of the bank of the 
 nullah you have tlie tope as a matter of course, as the latter is 
 in the rear of the former. However, von are the best judge, 
 and I shall be ready. 
 
 " I am, my dear Sir, your most faitJiful sei-vant, 
 
 '" ARTHUR WELLESLEY." 
 
 This letter has been often appealed io as evidence 
 of that brevity, pej*spicacity, and decision afterwards 
 
ONLY FAILURE. 35 
 
 recognized as such notable characteristics of the great 
 Duke's stjde. Without stopping to challenge the criti- 
 cism, we would rather point to it as signally exomplity- 
 ing the change which had taken place in the young 
 Colonel's official position since we last saw him in the 
 Dutch campaign. Instead of simply conducting a regi- 
 ment, we now find him, though still only a colonel, in 
 command of a powerful division of an army, influencing 
 the character of its operations, corresponding on terms 
 of freedom with the General-in-Chief, and preserving 
 his despatches for the edification of posterity. Reserv- 
 ing, however, any further comment on these circum- 
 stances, we must now state that the attack in question 
 was a fiiilure. Bewildered in the darkness of the night, 
 and entangled in the difficulties of the tope, tha assault- 
 ing parties were thrown into confusion, and, although 
 Shawe was enabled to report himself in possession of 
 the post assigned to him. Colonel Wellesley was com- 
 pelled, as the General records in his private diary, to 
 come, "in a good deal of agitation, to say he had not 
 carried the tope." When daylight broke the attack 
 was renewed with instantaneous success, showing; at 
 once what had been the nature of the obstacles on the 
 previous night ; but the affiiir has been frequently 
 quoted as Wellington's " only failure," and the particu- 
 lars of the occurrence were turned to some account in 
 the jealousies and scandals from which no camp is 
 wholly free. The reader will at once perceive that the 
 circumstances suggest no discussion whatever. A night 
 attack, by the most natural of results, failed of its ob- 
 ject, and w^as successfully executed the next morning as 
 soon as the troops discovered the nature of their duties. 
 
36 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 When these advanced posts had fallen into our 
 hands, the last liour of Tippoo's reign might be thought 
 to have struck, and the final results of the expedition 
 to be beyond peril. But there is an aspect.of facility 
 about Indian campaigning which is extremely delusive 
 to those unexperienced in its risks. All goes apparently 
 without a check, and all is thought easy and insignifi- 
 cant; but the truth is, that a single check, however 
 slight, will often turn the whole tide of success. It is 
 the characteristic of this warfare that reverses which in 
 other countries would be endured without serious dam- 
 age are here liable to be fotal. To our check before 
 the little fort of Kalunga, in 1814, we owed probably 
 the duration and losses of the Nepaul war, and it has 
 been credibly averred that if the ingenious operations of 
 our officers had failed before the gates of Ghuznee, the 
 disasters of the Cabul retreat would have been antici- 
 pated in that fii*st Aftghan expedition, which now reads 
 like a triumphal march. It is true that Tippoo's forces 
 proved unequal to encounter in the field even the weak- 
 est of the invading armies, and that our position before 
 Seringapatam had been taken up without any resist- 
 ance proportioned to the renown or resources of our 
 enemy. But the fort was extremely strong, the place 
 unhealthy to the last degree, and any material pro- 
 traction of the siege would have exhausted the pro- 
 visions of the army, and given time for the season to 
 do its work. The river Cauvery is periodically swelled 
 during the monsoon, and, had this occurred earlier than 
 usual, the siege must have been raised, and a disastrous 
 retreat — for in India all retreats are disastrous — nmst 
 have been the inevitable consequence. As it was, the 
 
CONDUCT OF THE SIEGE. 37 
 
 Commander-in-Chief was full of apprehensions, and Sir 
 John Malcolm used in after days to relate an anecdote 
 which shows better than any calculation how many 
 chances still remained in Tippoo's favour. On the day 
 appointed for the storm, he entered the General's tent, 
 and saluted him by anticipation with the title which 
 proved afterwards the reward of his services. " Mal- 
 colm," was the serious reply of the old chief, " this is 
 no time for compliments. We have serious work on 
 hand. Don't you see that the European sentry over 
 my tent is so weak from want of food and exhaustion 
 that a Sepoy could push him down ? We must take 
 this fort or perish in the attempt. I have ordered 
 Baird to persevere in his attack to the last extremity ; 
 if he is beat off, Wellesley is to proceed with the troops 
 from the trenches ; if he also should not succeed, I shall 
 put myself at the head of the remainder of the army, 
 for success is necessary to our existence." 
 
 In fact, these arrangements had been actually 
 made. Colonel Wellesley, whose unremitting atten- 
 tion to all the duties of the siege is shown in a multi- 
 plicity of despatches, and the value of whose sugges- 
 tions is proved by their effect upon the operations, re- 
 ceived orders to head the reserve in the advanced 
 trenches and to await the success of the storm. The 
 fighting in the batteries had already been desperate 
 and the losses heavy, but 2,500 Europeans still sur- 
 vived to lead the assault, and a chosen column of Se- 
 poys followed them. It was midday on the 4th of 
 May. Colonel Wellesley had received reports of the 
 state of the breach, had revised them in terms exactly 
 like tliose afterwards used atCiudad Rodrigo and Bada- 
 
38 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 joz, had superintended tlie final preparations, and was 
 expecting the result from his appointed post. "It 
 was," says one near him, " a moment of agony, and we 
 continued with aching eyes to watch the result, until, 
 after a short and appalling interval, we saw the accliv- 
 ity of the breach, covered with a cloud of crimson." 
 The assault succeeded, and Colonel Wellesley advanced 
 from his position, not to renew a desperate attempt, 
 but to restore some order in the captured city, and to 
 certify the death of our dreaded enemy by discovering 
 his body yet warm and palpitating under a mountain 
 of slain. 
 
 Duties little less arduous than those of the actual 
 storm devolved presently upon the troops of the reserve 
 and their commander. The captured city presented a 
 scene of rapine, terror, and confusion, in which not 
 even the conquerors were safe, and the despatches 
 of Colonel Wellesley from within the walls to Gene- 
 ral Harris, who still remained without, assumed an al- 
 most peremptory tone in their demands for positive in- 
 structions and summary authority to arrest the evil. 
 The suggestions of the writer were acknowledged by 
 an appointment conferring upon himself the powers re- 
 quired for restoring order. The establishment of a per- 
 manent garrison under Colonel Wellesley's immediate 
 command speedily brought the city to its ordinary 
 state of tranquillity and confidence, and his services or 
 his claims were still more conspicuously recognized by 
 his subsequent nomination to the commission instituted 
 for disposing of the con(|Ucred territories. Of these one 
 portion was conferred on the Nizam, another ofiered to 
 the Peishwa, a third retained by ourselves under the pro- 
 
GOVERNOR OF SERINGAPATAM. 39 
 
 visional government of Colonel Wellesley himself, and 
 the remainder restored to the original proprietors, dispos- 
 sessed by the usui-pation of Tippoo and his father. In 
 these hands it still remains, and the residence of the 
 Court having been again transferred to its ancient capi- 
 tal, Mysore, Seringapatam, the creation of Hyder and 
 Tippoo, and the scene of British triumphs, is now 
 crumbling to ruins from desertion and neglect, and will 
 probably leave as little visible trace as the dynasty 
 which raised it. Such was the end of the famous war 
 in Which Arthur Wellesley first won consideration and 
 renown. It is not easy, perhaps, at this period of time 
 to appreciate the extraordinary interest with which it 
 was viewed by contemporary observers, but it deserves to 
 be remarked that these impressions were by no means 
 confined to the shores of Britain. In the negotiations 
 for the peace of Amiens the French plenipotentiaries 
 repeatedly specified the conquest of Mysore as counter- 
 balancing the continental triumphs of Napoleon him- 
 self, and the argument was acknowledged by Mr. Fox 
 and his party to be founded on substantial reason. 
 
 We have now, within little more than two years of 
 Colonel Wellesley 's first landing at Calcutta, accompanied 
 his rising fortunes to the point of independent and al- 
 most viceregal command. In July, 1799, he was 
 actual Governor of Seringapatam and Mysore, — that is 
 to say, of territories nearly equivalent to Tippoo's late 
 kingdom ; and as General Harris, on returning to the 
 Presidency, had, in obedience to orders, surrendered to 
 him the command in chief of the army of occupation, 
 the civil and military authorities were united in his 
 single person. The use which he made of these discre- 
 
40 THE DUKE OF \YELLINGTON. 
 
 tionary powers, and the account to wbicli he turned 
 such cxtraoivHiiary o}>portunitios of developing, correct- 
 ing, and maturing his natural talents for organization 
 and command, may be readily conceived. For some 
 months he was now actively engaged in reconstituting 
 the various departments of an Administration wholly 
 disorganized by the overthrow of its chief; he selected 
 and appointed othcers in every capacity, giving prefer- 
 ence to those who had faithfully discharged their duties 
 under the former recfhne ; he repaireti roads, opened 
 communications, attended to the claims of every class 
 of the population, and executed with admirable sagacity 
 all the functions of a Governor. Of the assiduity and 
 talents which he brought to the performance of his du- 
 ties his correspondence during this period with Colonel 
 Close, the Resident at Mysore, contains copious illustra- 
 tion ; but his services were soon to be again demanded 
 in tliat capacity wliich was more peculiarly and memor- 
 ably his own. 
 
 It is a characteristic of Oriental life that a few deeds 
 of daring and a few turns of fortune will sullicc to con- 
 vert a freebooting adventurer into a popular captain, a 
 mighty chief, and a recognised sovereign. Ilyder Ali 
 himself had been little more, and the existing rights of 
 some princes of India are derived from a similar title. 
 Scarcely had Tippoo's standard been overthrown whei^ 
 it was raised again by a rival, who, but for the oppfelF 
 tune antagonism of Wellesley, might have repeateFon 
 a larger scale the pretensions and aggressions of the 
 ^[ysorean usurper. The name of this desperado was 
 Dhoondiah Waugh. Having been unable, even dur- 
 ing Tippoo's life, to restrain his predatory propensities, 
 
DIIOONDIAII WAUGH. 41 
 
 he had been incarcerated in Seringapatam, and was 
 only released at the general deliverance which attended 
 our conquest of the capital. On escaping from his 
 dungeon he betook himself to the district of Bednore, 
 on the Mahratta frontier, collected a numerous force 
 from the disbanded levies of the Sultaun, and proceeded 
 to lay the country under contribution after the usual 
 fashion of such aspirants. On being pui-sued by a 
 British detachment he crossed the frontier, and ensconced 
 himself in a territory which it was then thought very 
 undesirable to violate. Just at this conjuncture Colonel 
 Wellesley received an offer which might have exercised 
 considerable influence on his subsequent career. It had 
 been resolved to attempt, though by negotiation rather 
 than force, the reduction of the Dutch settlement at 
 Batavia, and the military command of the expedition 
 was placed by Lord Mornington at the disposal of his 
 brother. As the appointment was eventually declined, 
 little notice would have been due to the incident but 
 for the indirect testimonies which it elicited to Colonel 
 Wellesley's services. Lord Clive, then Governor of 
 Madras, dissuaded, in emphatic terms, the removal of a 
 commander so indispensable to the peace of the Presi- 
 dency, and Colonel Close alludes to the mere report of 
 the project with expressions of unfeigned alarm. Wel- 
 lesley himself remitted the question to the judgment of 
 Lord Clive, not concealing his appreciation of the op- 
 portunity, but resolutely postponing all other considera- 
 tions to those of the public service, and candidly avow- 
 ing that Dhoondiah's progress was taking a very se- 
 rious turn indeed. His disinterestedness on this occa- 
 sion suffirested the most advantageous policy he could 
 
42 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 possibly have adopted, for if Dhoondiah, whose fortunes 
 were watched by a far more powerful foe, had been 
 permitted to gather strength, either our Indian empire 
 must have been crushed in its infancy, or the glories of 
 the Mahratta war must have been gathered by other 
 hands than those of Wellesley. 
 
 In point of fact, at the moment of writing the des- 
 patches with his conclusions on this critical subject. 
 Colonel Wellesley was in the field on Dhoondiah's track. 
 Towards the end of May he had put his troops in motion 
 against this rapacious marauder, who, having assumed 
 the title of " King of the Two Worlds," had a])peared 
 in imposing force C4i the borders of Mysore, alarming 
 the well aftected, enlisting the malcontents, and ravaging 
 the whole country before him. There was, indeed, little 
 likelihood that he would aftect to make head against 
 Colonel Wellesley's force in open field, but his troops 
 were almost wholly composed of light cavalry and artil- 
 lery, extremely difficult to overtake, and the seat of war, 
 which was the " Dooab," or space between two rivers 
 called the Kistnah and Toombudra, was peculiarly cal- 
 culated to facilitate his plans. The country was inter • 
 sected in all directions by rivers, which swelled prodi- 
 giously after rains, it was under no regular government, 
 and had been exhausted by Dhoondiah's previous ravages. 
 The exertions, therefore, of Colonel AVellesley in this, 
 the first campaign which he ever directed in person, 
 were turned to the moans of concentrating his detach- 
 ments in this difficult region, of provisioning his troops, 
 and of either " running down" his adversary by rapid 
 movements, or surprising him by adroit manoeuvres. 
 A subject of extreme importance was the disposition 
 
AN UNHANDSOME OFFER. 43 
 
 likely to be entertained at the Mahratta Court of Poohah, 
 since the instructions of the British commander now 
 empowered him to cross the frontier, if necessary, in 
 pursuit of his antagonist — a step which he foresaw might 
 entail a Mahratta war. The Peishwa, however, profess- 
 ed liis readiness to co-operate in the campaign, but his 
 contingent was routed by Dhoondiah with such promp- 
 titude, that little positive service was experienced from 
 our allies, who would, there was little doubt, have de- 
 clared against us on any of those reverses rendered so 
 probable by the difficulties of the campaign. For several 
 weeks Dhoondiah, by doubling and countermarching, 
 succeeded in eluding his pursuers, and it seemed doubt- 
 ful how long the expedition might be protracted, when 
 Colonel Wellesley received an offer from a native to 
 terminate the whole business by a stroke of a poniard. 
 His reply was as follows : — " To ofter a public reward 
 by proclamation for a man's life, and to make a secret 
 bargain to have it taken away, are two different things ; 
 the one is to be done ; the other, in my opinion, cannot, 
 by an officer at the head of his troops." The contest 
 was continued, therefore, on even terms. More than 
 once did the British commander succeed in driving his 
 adversary into a position from which there appeared no 
 escape, but as often did the wily freebooter defeat the 
 imperfect vigilance of our allies, or avail himself of some 
 unforeseen opportunity for eluding his pursuers. At 
 length, on the 10th of September, 1800, after two 
 months of a campaign in which he had extemporized 
 from his own resources all the means of the commis- 
 sariat and engineer department, and had subsisted his 
 army almost by his own skill. Colonel Wellesley came 
 
44 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 upon the camp of his enemy. Though tlie whole force 
 with him at that moment consisted but of four regi- 
 ments of cavahy, harassed and overworked by constant 
 marching, lie at once " made a dash" at his prey, and 
 put his army to the rout by a single charge, in encoun- 
 tering which 1 )hoondiah fell. The corpse of "* his Majesty" 
 being recognized, was lashed to a galloper gun and 
 carried back to the British camp, but a certain item of 
 the spoil deserves more particular mention. Among 
 the baggage was found a boy about four years old, 
 who proved to be the favourite son of Dhoondiah. 
 Colonel Wellesley took charge of the child himself, 
 carried him to his own tent, protected him through his 
 boyhood, and, on quitting India, left a sum of money in 
 the hands of a friend to bo applied to his use. 
 
 This little war, if such a term can be applied to any 
 hostilities in a country like India, was a simple rehearsal, 
 both in character and result, of the great expeditions 
 which were to follow. Against any antagonist but 
 Wellesley it is highly probable that Dhoondiah 's auda- 
 city and enterprise might have established him in a 
 dominion equal to that of the Mahratta chiefs, whose 
 power, indeed, had risen from an origin not dissimilar. 
 At this moment the authority of the Peishwa was clearly 
 on the decline, and threatened speedily to fall to the 
 strongest, nor was there any reason why Dhoondiah 
 should not have competed with Scindiah himself for the 
 prize. The success of the recent cam]viign at once ter- 
 minated all these risks, and confirmed Colonel Wellesley 
 in an extraordinary reputation both with the native 
 Courts and the British Government. The former were 
 peculiarly qualified to appreciate such a victory as he 
 
AT THE TOr OF THE TREE. 45 
 
 had recently achieved, and tlie latter could not withhold 
 their testimonies to the abilities by which the brother 
 of the Governor-General had justified the appointments 
 conferred upon him. In fact, though still a simple 
 colonel, Arthur Welleslcy was already, as he himself 
 expressed it, " at the top of the tree," being intrusted 
 with commissions above his rank, and honoured with 
 the entire confidence of those whom he served. Ilis 
 attention, after the fall of Dhoondiah, had been directed 
 under the ever present apprehension of Mahratta policy, 
 to the Court of Poonah, but the jealousies subsisting 
 between the Peishwa and his own feudatories, especially 
 Scindiah-, superseded for the moment any intrigues against 
 the British dominion, and Colonel Wellesley was pre- 
 paring to neutralize the ambition of the confederacy by 
 supporting one of its members against the other, when 
 events occurred which severely tested his moral forti- 
 tude, and which tlireatened at one time a serious inter- 
 ruption of his professional career. 
 
 It was in the autumn of the year 1 800. Napoleon 
 had struck down the powers of the continent, and was 
 devising means for restoring to the French army in 
 Egypt the resources they had lost by Nelson's victory 
 of the Nile. In the eyes of Englishmen of those days, 
 Egypt was always considered in the light of a high 
 road to India ; nor was it ever imagined that Napo- 
 leon's views in this direction could be bounded by the 
 Red Sea. When, therefore, the force under Sir Ralph 
 Abercromby was despatched to counterbalance the an- 
 ticipated expedition of Napoleon, a scheme was conceiv- 
 ed of making India contribute to its own security, by 
 taking the French in rear, while Abercromby's army at- 
 
40 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 tacked them in front. In pursuance of this remarkable 
 plan, orio'inally suggestecl, we believe, by the Marquis 
 Wellesley himself, a force, composed of detachments" 
 from the Indian armies, was to sail westward, to rendez- 
 vous at Mocha, to proceed thence to Cosseir, and to 
 carry their co-operation across the Desert to the scene 
 of war. The conception was actually executed ; but so 
 serious Avere the delays, in an enterprise without prece- 
 dent or parallel, that the expedition only arrived at 
 Cairo on the 10th of August, 1801, three months after 
 the capitulation of General Belliard at that city had ex- 
 tinguished the prospects of the French in Egypt. With 
 the expedition itself, therefore, not only as having been 
 superfluous, but as not having included Colonel Welles- 
 ley among the officei-s employed, our present subject 
 has little concern ; but the circumstances attending its 
 execution touched the fortunes of the tuture hero in 
 some critical points, and served to display his constitu- 
 tional qualities in a very instructive degree. 
 
 We have mentioned that among the expeditions 
 projected by the Indian Government was one directed 
 against Batavia. On the intelligence of Napoleon's de- 
 monstrations against our eastern possessions this scheme 
 was abandoned, and it was resolved to substitute ope- 
 rations more immediately calculated to impede the ad- 
 vances of the French. With these views, a force of 
 about 5,000 troops was collected at Trincomalee, in 
 Ceylon, not with any fixed destination, but for the pur- 
 pose of being thrown on such points as might be con- 
 sidered most advisable. Of this force Colonel "Welles- 
 ley received the command, and he repaired accordingly 
 to Trincomalee. from the theatre of his recent services in 
 
ASSUMES RESPONSIBILITY. 47 
 
 * Mysore. At the time of liis arrival it was thought that 
 the Mauritius offered the most promising point of at- 
 tack ; but the young commander soon discovered reasons 
 for discarding this opinion, and liad communicated his 
 conclusions to the Governor-General, when he received 
 intelligence which he permitted to decided his move- 
 ments at once. A despatch from the home government 
 had been forwarded to the Governor-General, directino- 
 the immediate preparation of the expedition mentioned 
 above, and containing an authority for the prompt ex- 
 ecution of the scheme, if circumstances should so advise, 
 without waiting for instructions from Calcutta. A copy 
 of this despatch had been left with the Governor of 
 Madras, who transmitted it, without any directions of 
 his own, to Colonel Wellesley at Trincomalee. The 
 situation thus created was one of great delicacy and re- 
 sponsibility. Colonel Wellesley was convinced from the 
 terms of the despatch that the expedition to Egypt 
 must be immediately executed. He was perfectly 
 aware that the troops linder his command formed the 
 only force available for the service ; and he also knew 
 that the destination now specially ordered had been 
 among those contemplated for his detachment. Before 
 he could receive from Calcutta any instructions founded 
 on the despatch, four or five precious weeks would be 
 sacrificed, and the aid of the expiring monsoon would 
 be lost to his voyage. On the other hand, it required 
 extraordinary confidence to assume so important a com- 
 mand, and to anticipate the orders of Government on a 
 point of such serious magnitude. Colonel Wellesley's 
 decision was characteristic. Relying, perhaps, partly on 
 his brother's good opinion, but mainly, as we may 
 
48 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 fairly conceive, on the zeal for the service which had* 
 evidently prompted the resolution, he issued the neces- 
 sary orders of his own authority, and set sail with the 
 force under his command for the shores of the Red 
 Sea. Learning, however, from the naval officers that 
 the voyage would not be materially protracted by touch- 
 ing at Bombay, he resolved on adopting that course, for 
 the double purpose of re victualling the transports and 
 of receiving overland orders from the Governor-General, 
 to whom he had immediately forwarded a statement of 
 uis mientions. On his arrival at Bombay he had the 
 mortification to find his proceedings condemned, and 
 himself superseded in his command. 
 
 From the light now thrown upon this subject hy 
 the Duke's despatches, we can perceive that the Gover- 
 nor-General, though privately acknowledging the sub 
 stantial wisdom of his brother's decision, conceived that 
 the general eff'ect of the precedent, if uncensured, would 
 more than counterbalance the advantages directly de- 
 livable, on any recurrence of a similar exigency. The 
 actual supercession, however, of Colonel Wellesley, was 
 not intended to carry a penal character. The Governor 
 General had concluded, with obvious reason, that a 
 command so important as the projected expedition in- 
 volved should be given to a general officer, and he had, 
 in fact, already selected General Baird for the appoint- 
 ment, while still under the impression that the troops 
 were at Trincomalee, and that Batavia would be their 
 fittest destination. In these conclusions it is not diffi- 
 cult to hold with the Governor-General ; but, on the 
 other hand. Colonel Wellesley argued that the decision 
 on the point of standing required in the commanding 
 
SACRIFICES PRIVATE VIEWS. 49 
 
 officer should have been taken at the first notification 
 of the appointment ; that he had been pubhcly in- 
 trusted with the command in question, although it was 
 thought possible that Egypt might be the destination 
 of the expedition ; that he had been recalled for this 
 purpose from a lucrative and honourable commission 
 in Mysore ; and that to supersede him without cause 
 given by his own deftiult was seriously to injure his re- 
 putation and prospects. His behaviour under these 
 circumstances was highly characteristic and exemplary. 
 Lord Mornington rightly considered that, apart from the 
 good of the service, it concerned his brother's profes- 
 sional character that he should not be positively ex- 
 cluded from an expedition of this active kind, and he 
 therefore offered him the appointment of second in 
 command to General Baird, at the same time leaving 
 him the option of returning to his post in Mysore. The 
 jealousies previously created between General Baird and 
 Colonel Wellesley aggravated the unpleasantness of the 
 affair, but under the obvious suggestions of the situa- 
 tion Colonel Wellesley had no doubts. He recorded 
 his own annoyance, and his sense of the injustice he 
 conceived himself to have suffered; but he remained 
 at his post at Bombay, sent pledges of his cordial co- 
 operation to General Baird, and, on hearing that the 
 work had actually commenced in Egypt, prepared him- 
 self again to anticipate his superior officer by starting 
 for the Red Sea without delay. " You will have seen," 
 says he in a private letter to his brother Henry, " how 
 much this resolution will annoy me, but I have never 
 had much value for the public spirit of any man who 
 jdoes not sacrifice his private views and convenience 
 3 
 
50 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 when it is necessary." This was written on the 25th oi 
 March, 1801 ; but on the same evening Colonel Wel- 
 lesley was seized with a fever at Bombay, and wholly 
 disabled from embarking- on the expedition at all. In 
 this annoying conjuncture he addressed General Baird 
 with great candour and generosity of sentiment, and 
 enclosed him a memorandum on his operations in tlie 
 Red Sea, evincing in a most remarkable degree tlie re- 
 search and reflection he had expended on his anticipated 
 command. These events, discouraging as they ap- 
 peared, proved ultimately calculated, as the reader is 
 aware, to develope even more signally than before the 
 genius they seemed to repress. Colonel Wellesley re- 
 turned to his command in Mysore, not for a service oi 
 inaction or routine, but to plan and conduct the operations 
 of a war so extensive as to demand the highest efforts 
 of professional skill, and so successful as to establish con- 
 clusively the supremacy of Britain in the East. 
 
 We delineated in a foregoing portion of this me- 
 moir the nature and extent of the empire or confederacy 
 of the Mahrattas, which now constituted the only powei 
 from which the British Government had anything to 
 dread. Though no permanent tranquillity was ever to 
 have been anticipated by the side of these formidable 
 rivals, yet so averse were the British authorities to war, 
 and so eager to maintain the peace conducive to mercan- 
 tile prosperity, that the Governor-General would willingly 
 have retarded to the utmost the inevitable rupture, had 
 not circumstances clearly demonstrated the expediency 
 of immediate action. Independently of the apprehen- 
 sions created by their immense resources and their in- 
 veterate aggressiveness, the Mahrattas were evoking at 
 
FRENCH INFLUENCE. 51 
 
 this moment the dreaded vision of French influence 
 and ascendency. Though the peace of Amiens had 
 checked the overt operations of our redoubtable rivals, 
 their intrigues were continued with characteristic tena- 
 city. Napoleon had sent Decaen to India with strict 
 injunctions to provide for war while observing the sti- 
 pulations of peace. Nor was this all ; for Perron, a 
 French adventurer, who had arrived in Ilindostan twenty 
 years previously, as a petty officer in SuftVein's squadron, 
 was rising rapidly to the command- of the whole Mah- 
 ratta forces. He had disciplined and armed some 
 15,000 or 20,000 men for Scindiah's service, who were 
 oflScered by his own countrymen, and who were not 
 inferior to the trained battalions of the Company. His 
 influence with Scindiah was so unbounded as actually 
 to excite jealousy among the Mahratta chiefs ; and if 
 he had possessed the national spirit of Dupleix, or been 
 opposed by any less a soldier than Arthur Wellesley, 
 it is not too much to conceive that our Eastern empire 
 might have hung upon a thread. So formidable even 
 of itself was the Mahi-atta power, that nothing but the 
 fortunate antagonism of the Aflfghans could have saved 
 us fi-om a rivalry which, in the infancy of our dominion, 
 must have been fatal, and such an imposing mass of 
 strength was now constituted by this addition of Euro- 
 pean discipline, that we may well rejoice in the destiny 
 which reserved the struggle for the hero of Assaye. 
 
 Beyond the probabilities inseparable from Oriental 
 policy, there was no reason for presuming that the se- 
 veral chiefs of the Mahratta nation had concerted any 
 designs against the British Government. At that mo- 
 ment their intrigues had found a more immediate ob- 
 
52 THE DUKE OP WELLINGTON. 
 
 jcct in the headship of their own confederacy. The 
 Peishwa — their nominal lord — was rapidly losing the 
 power whicli had been usurped from the original sove- 
 reigns, and three of his sons, great feudatories, were 
 preparing to contest his place. The Chiicowar, having 
 more to fear than to hope from his brethren, had per- 
 mitted himself to be detached from their councils into 
 an alliance with ourselves, which has subsisted to the 
 })resent day ; but Scindiah, ITolkar, and the Berar Ra- 
 jah were all resolute competitors for the supreme seat 
 at Poonah. From these circumstances the British 
 Government drew both the motives and means of ac- 
 tion. The most powerful candidate was Scindiah, 
 whoso success, as we have shown above, would have 
 virtually resulted in the establishment of French influ- 
 ence on a most formidable scale. This consummation, 
 therefoi'c, was, if possible, to be averted, and the Gov- 
 ernor-General hoped that by conceding to the Peish- 
 wa that support which, in his weakness and peril, he 
 had begged at our hands, and, by playing oft" against 
 each other the mutual jealousies of his rivals, we might 
 succeed, at least for a time, in obviating the dangers 
 descried. 
 
 With these views a considerable force, under the 
 command of General Stuart, was collected on the fron- 
 tier of the Poonah territory, recently the scene of 
 l>hoondiah's exploits. This was to servo the double 
 l>urpose of demonstrating our strength, and protecting 
 our own provinces, while a detachment about VOOO 
 strong w;is to enter the dominions of the Peishwa for 
 more active co-operation with that prince. It was in 
 November, 1802, that Major-General Wellesley (for 
 
RESPONSIBLE COMMAND. 53 
 
 such, since April previous, had been his rank) received 
 intelligence that an army was to be collected at the 
 point in question. He had then been for eighteen 
 months unobtrusively but vigorously engaged in the 
 government of Mysore, to which, as we saw, ho return- 
 ed after being disappointed of his Egyptian command. 
 The results of liis administration were immediately 
 conspicuous in the facilities of communication and un- 
 exampled copiousness of his supplies. The resources 
 of Madras were outdone by the productiveness of My- 
 sore. Though not yet aware that the direction of ac- 
 tive operations was to devolve upon liimself, his exer- 
 tions were unremitting, and the interest he instinctively 
 felt in the expedition will be seen in a remarkable 
 journal which he kept of his daily proceedings, and 
 which is published in the first volume of his despatches. 
 So involuntarily was he engrossed by the idea of the 
 campaign, that he even sketched out a plan of action 
 for the benefit of the officer who might be employed. 
 In point of fact, however, there could be but one 
 opinion on this point. Whatever might be the reluc- 
 tance entertained to part with (leneral Wellesley from 
 Mysore, or whatever the jealousies suggested by his 
 rapid rise, it was perfectly undeniable that he, not only 
 from his military talents, but from the peculiar know- 
 ledge he had acquired, both of the country and of the 
 enemy with which we had to deal, was marked out for 
 the appointment in question. lie received it accord- 
 ingly, in February, 1803, and, as his commission was 
 extended four months afterwards to the supreme mili- 
 tary and political charge of British aff*airs on the scene 
 of operations, he found himself now invested with a 
 
54 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 command almost as responsible as those which he was 
 afterwards to hold in Europe. 
 
 There was, as we observed, no declaration of war 
 at this moment between the Mahrattas and the Bri- 
 tish, nor was the force of the detachment originally 
 sent into the Peishwa's territory in any degree mea- 
 sured by the known resources of the Mahratta chiefs, 
 although their open hostility was a matter of probable 
 occurrence. The immediate object of General Wel- 
 lesley was to protect the Peishwa from summary de- 
 thronement, a result which he accomplished by a skil- 
 ful and rapid movement upon Poonah. After the 
 establishment of the legitimate authority by this open 
 demonstration of British alliance, and by the encour- 
 agement of well-disposed vassals, the proceedings of 
 the British were to be regulated by the attitude of the 
 refractory chiefs ; and this attitude grew daily so me- 
 nacing, that the Governor-General resolved to attempt 
 his ulterior objects of dispersing M. Perron's battalions 
 and circumscribing the enormous pretensions of Scin- 
 diah. Accordingly, while Lake took the field in Hin- 
 dostan for the memorable campaign of Laswarree, 
 General Wellesley was invested, as we have said, with 
 full powers to commence active operations against the 
 Mahratta forces in the Deccan. The force at his com- 
 mand for these purposes consisted of about 10,000 men 
 of all arms, Europeans and natives, including the 19th 
 dragoons, and the '74th regiment of foot. He had de- 
 sired that his old corps, the 33d, should be attached to 
 his division, but circumstances prevented the arrange- 
 ment. The duty of co-operating with his movements 
 devolved on Colonel Stevenson, an excellent officer, who 
 
FACILITIES OF FORESIGHT. 55 
 
 commanded for this purpose the subsidiary force of the 
 Nizam, wliich, by the addition of the 94th regiment, 
 had been raised to about the same strength as General 
 Wellesley's division. 
 
 In the ensuing campaign General Wellesley's duties 
 consisted in so combining his movements that none of 
 his detachments were taken at a disadvantage, that the 
 peculiar qualities of the British troops might be turned 
 to the best account, and that the difficulties of Indian 
 warfare might be obviated by wary provision, or sur- 
 mounted by vigorous enterprise. It was now that his 
 contemporaries had the opportunity of observing his 
 singular faculties of foresight and his extraordinary 
 aptitude in all departments of his profession. In his 
 afftiir with Dhoondiah he had accurately noted the cha- 
 racteristics of native warfare, the chief features and ser- 
 viceable points of the country, the strength of the forts, 
 and the course, depth, and periodical variations of the 
 rivers. From these observations he had conceived his 
 plans of a Mahratta campaign. Selecting a season 
 when the rivers were not fordable, he turned this fea- 
 ture of the country to the advantage of the British by 
 preparing boats and pontoons, with which he knew the 
 enemy would be unprovided. His despatches contain 
 the most minute instructions for the fabrication of these 
 bridges and boats, for the establishment of particular 
 ferries, and for their protection by proper guards. 
 Aware that a native army relied on the superior rapidi- 
 ty of its movements, he had been indefatigable in im- 
 proving the breed of draught-bullocks by the aid of 
 Tippoo's femous stock ; and he had resolved, when oc- 
 casion came, to discard the traditional rules of march- 
 
66 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 ing and halting-. The forts, he observed, were strong 
 enough, if well defended, lo give serious trouble, and 
 too numerous to be b*?sieged in form. He gave orders, 
 therefore, by way of conveying an adequate idea of 
 British prowess, that one or two of them should be 
 carried by simple escalade, and that an example should 
 be made of the garrison in case of any desperate re- 
 sistance. These tactics were completely successful. A 
 Mahratta chief wrote to his friend as follows : — " These 
 English are a strange people, and their general a won- 
 derful man. They came in here this morning, looked at the 
 Pettah wall, walked over it, killed all the garrison, and 
 returned to breakfast. Who can withstand them ?" 
 The result was that the strongest forts in the country 
 were afterwards taken with little or no loss of life on 
 either side. 
 
 Meantime the demonstrations of the great Mahratta 
 chiefs grew more and more overtly hostile. For the 
 main body of Scindiah's troops Lake was finding ample 
 work between Delhi and Agra, but a force including 
 10,000 of his disciplined infantry was hovering over 
 the Deccan ; Ilolkar, though he had hitherto retired 
 before the British, was known to be dangerous, and the 
 Rajah of Berar was more than suspected of sharing their 
 common views. The object, therefore, was first to 
 compel these chieftains to an avowal of their intentions, 
 and next, in the event of the probable result, to bring 
 them to a decisive action. The plenary authority which 
 General Wellesley received on the 2Cth of June ena- 
 bled him to cut short the negotiations which had been 
 purposely protracted, and to reduce Scindiah to his 
 proper character. After some wearisome manoeuvres 
 
ASSAYE. 67 
 
 he at length learnt that the enemy was on the north 
 bank of the Godavery, meditating a swoop on Hy- 
 derabad. " If the river," he now wrote, " does not 
 become fordable six weeks sooner than usual, I hope to 
 strike a blow against their myriads of horse in a few 
 days." This was on the 30th of August. On the 21st 
 of September, having received more particular informa- 
 tion, he concerted measures with Colonel Stevenson 
 that one should take a western route and the other an 
 eastern, and both fall together from opposite quarters 
 on the enemy's camp early on the 24th. The next day 
 the two divisions diverged accordingly, and pursued 
 their respective routes, when on the 23d General Wel- 
 lesley learnt from his spies that the Mahratta cavalry 
 had moved off, but that the infantry were still encamp- 
 ed at about six miles distance. Pushing on with his 
 dragoons he presently descried not only the infantry, 
 but the entire army of the Mahrattas in the Deccan, 
 numbering at least .50,000 combatants, and strongly 
 posted, with 100 pieces of cannon before the fortified 
 village of Assaye. 
 
 At this critical moment of his fortunes the force 
 which General Wellesley had in hand, including the 
 infantry which was coming up, did not exceed 4,500 
 men ; his few light guns were utterly unable to make 
 head against the tremendous batteries of the Mahrattas, 
 and his draught cattle, notwithstanding the pains he 
 had expended on them, were sinking under the severity 
 of the campaign. His resolution, however, was taken 
 at once, and without measuring the relative proportion 
 of the two armies, or waiting for Colonel Stevenson to 
 share the perils and glories of the field, he gave instant 
 3* 
 
68 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 orders for the attack. Owing to a misapprehension of 
 instructions, his precautionary directions for avoiding 
 the most menacing points of the Mahratta position 
 were disregarded, and the battle was won with a terri- 
 ble carnage with the bayonet alone, exactly like some 
 of the actions recently witnessed with the Sikhs. But 
 nothing could be more decisive than the victory ob- 
 tained, which not only at once brought Scindiah to 
 terms, but served, in the estimation of competent 
 judges, to proclaim beyond reach of further chal- 
 lenge the military supremacy of the British. Taught 
 by our example, and the aid of Eui-opean officers, the 
 natives had gradually brought their armies to an appa- 
 rent equality with our own. The cumbrous and ill- 
 served artillery trains, the unwieldy masses and irregu- 
 lar hordes of our early antagonists, had now given 
 place to disciplined battalions formed of the same ma- 
 terial as those of the Company, and to batteries of 
 deadly strength, manned by skilful and devoted gun- 
 ners. It now remained to be seen whether the success 
 of the British arms depended on any element inaccessi- 
 ble to native emulation, and this enigma was solved, 
 once and for all, by Wellesley at Assaye. With forces 
 almost as numerically disproportionate as those of Clive, 
 he had surpassed the glories of Arcot and Plassey 
 against an enemy far more formidable than Chunda 
 Sahib, or Suraj-a-Dowlah. With all odds but those of 
 science and spirit against him, he had maintained and 
 confirmed the prestige superstitiously attached to the 
 arms of England, and to this, the first pitched battle in 
 which he ever commanded, has been plausibly traced 
 the establishment of that ascendency which we enjoy 
 in India to this very day. 
 
MAIIRATTA WARFARE. 69 
 
 Though it was clear, both to Britisli and Mahrattas, 
 that the whole campaign was virtually decided by such 
 a triumph as that of Assaye, yet the native chiefs, who, 
 as Wellesley on this occasion described them, were 
 "rashness personified," evinced resolutions of provoking 
 yet another battle. Scindiah, it is true, under the combi- 
 ned teaching of Wellesley and Lake, had received a lesson 
 which, to the latest days of his life, he never forgot ; 
 but the Rajah of Berar was still in the field, and as 
 General Wellesley two months afterwards was on the 
 Mahratta track to compel adherence to the covenanted 
 stipulations, and to clear the country of any dangerous 
 gatherings, he came one evening upon the whole re- 
 maining force of the enemy, drawn up in battle array 
 before the village of Argaum, fo renew again the ex- 
 periment of September. Consideiing that since the 
 last battle the British had been strengthened almost as 
 much as they themselves had been weakened, it was a 
 forlorn hazard, yet a body of Persian cavalry in the 
 Berar service made a desperate charge on the Euro- 
 pean regiments, and Scindiah's horsemen, who, not- 
 withstanding the recent treaty, were found in the ranks 
 of our adversaries, made a show of supporting the attack. 
 The advance of the British line, however, was not 
 waited for by the main body of the Mahrattas, who in 
 the hopeless confusion abandoned their guns and fled, 
 but only to fall, through the long hours of a moonlight 
 night, under the sabres of their pui-suers. 
 
 With these operations, the capture of some strong- 
 holds, and the surprise and destruction of a new com- 
 petitor for ])hoondiah's fame, ended our first Mahratta 
 war, in which, owing to the genius and energy of our 
 
60 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 generals, \ve had prosti-ated, with incredible rapidity, 
 that redoubtable foe wliose enmity had been for yeais 
 the traditional dread of tlie Indian Govennnent. THh 
 personal contributions of Wellesley towards this consum- 
 mation were well appreciated by those most intimately 
 concerned. The British inhabitants of Calcutta voted 
 him a valuable sword, the native population of Sering- 
 apatam received him with unfeigned congratulations on 
 his return, and upon his departure from India, which 
 soon followed, the thanks, the addresses, and the offer- 
 ings of civilians, soldiers, and presidencies poured upon 
 him in quick succession. A yet more remarkable tes- 
 timony to the value of his services may be gathered 
 from the opinions of that mighty antagonist with whom, 
 at a future day, he was to compete in deadly grapple 
 for the championship of the world. While Wellesley 
 was clearing the Deccan of England's last enemies, 
 Napoleon was mustering the whole resources of his 
 empire on the heights of Boulogne for a descent on the 
 island of liis hate. The flotilla was ready, the camps 
 were formed, and the conveying squadron anxiously ex- 
 pected from the west, wlien, at this very moment, with 
 a vision of conquest before his eyes, he wavered, as we 
 are now told by his latest biographer, for some weeks 
 together, between the ideas of destroying us by invasion 
 or attacking us through the side of India by reviving 
 the Mahratta war ! 
 
 It was in the month of September, 1805, that Sir 
 Arthur Wellesley — after an absence of nine yeai-s, dur- 
 ing wliicli his services in* the East had earned him a 
 Major-Generalship, the Knighthood of the Bath, the 
 thanks of the King and Parliament, and a confirmed 
 
THREE YEARS AT HOME. 61 
 
 professional reputation — landed once more on the 
 shores of England. Between this period and his de- 
 parture on those memorable campaigns with which his 
 name will be immortally connected there elapsed an 
 interval in the Duke's life of nearly three years, which 
 a seat in Parliament, an Irish Secretaryship, and a 
 Privy Councillorship enabled him to turn actively to 
 account. His proper talents, however, were not over- 
 looked, and he bore his part in those notable " expe- 
 ditions" which were then conceived to measure the 
 military power of England. His arrival from India had 
 exactly coincided with the renewal of the war against 
 France by the third European coalition — a compact to 
 which England was a party. Our specific duties in 
 these alHances were usually limited to the supply of 
 ships and money. We swept the ocean with our 
 fleets, and we subsidized the great Powers whose forces 
 were actually in the field. As to the British army 
 itself, that had been hitherto reckoned among the con- 
 tingents of second and third-rate States, which might 
 be united perhaps for a convenient diversion, but which 
 could make no pretension to service in the great Euro- 
 pean line of battle. At the beginning of the war these 
 demonstrations had usually been made on the coasts of 
 France, but they were now principally directed against 
 the northern and southern extremities of the Continent, 
 and for these reasons : — the dominion, actual or con- 
 fessed, of Napoleon, against which the contest was 
 undertaken, embraced all the ports of Europe, from the 
 Texel to Genoa, while his battle array extended along 
 the length of the Rhine. The masses, therefore, of the 
 Austrian and Bussian hosts were moved directly against 
 
62 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 France from the east, and to the minor allies was left 
 the charge of penetrating either upwards from Naples, 
 or downwards from Swedism Pomerania, to the theatre 
 of action. Sometimes detachments from Gibraltar and 
 Malta disembarked in Italy in conjunction with Rus- 
 sians from Corfu and Neapolitans from Calabria, and 
 sometimes we landed in Hanover to compose a joint 
 stock force with Swedes, Norwegians, and Finlanders. 
 One of these latter expeditions fell to the lot of Sir 
 Arthur AYellesley immediately after his retui-n, but with 
 results even fewer than usual. The brigades were put 
 on shore at Bremen at the close of 1805 ; but Napo- 
 leon in the meantime had done his work so efteetually 
 on the Danube that our contingent returned to England 
 after a few weeks' absence without striking a blow. 
 Sir Arthur's next service was one of greater distinction. 
 In 1807, when the British Ministry had boldly deter- 
 mined upon anticipating Napoleon at Copenhagen by 
 one of his own strokes of policy, the feelings of the 
 Danes were consulted by the despatch of a force so 
 powerful as to justify a bloodless capitulation, and in 
 this army Sir Arthur Wellesley received a command 
 which brought under his charge the chief military op- 
 eration of the expedition. While the main body was 
 menacing Copenhagen a demonstration was observed 
 on the part of the Danes against the English rear, and 
 Sir x\rthur was detached to disperse their gathering 
 battalions. This service he effectually performed by 
 engaging them in their position of Kioge, and putting 
 them to the rout with the loss of 1,500 prisoners and 
 14 pieces of cannon. He was afterwards intrusted 
 with the negotiations for the capitulation of the city — 
 
SERVICES AT COrENIIAGEN. 63 
 
 a duty which was skilfully discharged. This short 
 episode in his military life has been thrown into shadow 
 by his mightier achievements ; but its merits were ac- 
 knowledged by the special thanks of Parliament ; and 
 M. Thiers, in his history, introduces Sir Arthur Welles- 
 ley to French readers as an officer who had certainly 
 seen service in India, but who was principally known 
 by his able conduct at Copenhagen. 
 
 At length, at the very moment when England 
 seemed to be excluded from all participation in the 
 military contests of the age, and the services of the 
 British soldier appeared likely to be measured by the 
 demands of colonial duty, events brought an opportu- 
 nity to pass which ultimately resulted in one of the 
 most memorable wars on record, and enabled Britain 
 to support a glorious part in what, without figure of 
 rhetoric, we may term the liberation of Europe. The 
 coalition eftected against France at the period of Sir 
 Arthur Wellesley's return had been scattered to the 
 winds under the blows of Napoleon. Russia had been 
 partly driven and partly inveigled into a concert of 
 politics with her redoubtable adversary ; Austria had 
 been put hors de combat, and Prussia was helplessly 
 prostrate. To complete the concern experienced at this 
 prospect of universal dominion Napoleon had availed 
 himself of the occasion to seize and appropriate the 
 whole of the Spanish Peninsula. Under tlie pretence 
 of a treaty with Spain for the partition of Portugal he 
 had poured his troops into the former country, overrun 
 the latter, and then repudiated the stipulations of his 
 compact by retaining undivided possession of the prize. 
 A few months later he established himself in a similar 
 
64 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 authority at Madrid, and made open avowal of his in- 
 tentions by bestowing on his own brother the inherit- 
 ance of the Spanish Bourbons. Scarcely, however, 
 had his projects been disclosed when he encountered a 
 tempest of popular opposition ; the nations of the Pe- 
 ninsula rose almost as one man ; a French army was 
 compelled to capitulate, King Joseph decamped from 
 Madrid, and Marshal Junot was with difficulty enabled 
 to maintain himself in Lisbon. At the intelligence of 
 this unexpected display of vigour England tendered her 
 substantial sympathies to the Spanish patriots ; the 
 overtures of their juntas were favourably received, and 
 at length it was decided by the Portland Ministry that 
 Portugal would be as good a point as any other on 
 which to throw 10,000 troops, who were waiting at 
 Cork for embarcation on the next " expedition" sug- 
 gesting itselt^ Such was the origin of the Peninsular 
 War — an enterprise at first considered, and even for 
 some time afterwards reputed, as importing little more 
 to the interests or renown of the nation than a diversion 
 at-Stralsund or Otranto, but which now, enshrined in 
 the pages of a fiimous history and viewed by the light 
 of experience, will take its place among the most 
 memorable contests which the annals of Europe record. 
 Beyond doubt, the entliusiasm of the British nation at 
 this conjuncture was unusually great, and there were 
 not wanting arguments to prove that the contemplated 
 expedition differed greatly in its promise from those 
 heretofore recommended to favour. It was urged that 
 Napoleon was now for the fii-st time encountered by 
 strong popular opinion, and that the scene of action, 
 moreover, was a sea-girt territory, giving full scope for 
 
SPANISH AFFAIRS. 65 
 
 the exercise of our naval supremacy. These observa- 
 tions were sound, but it must needs have been expected 
 by many tliat the " particular service" now announced 
 to tlie nation would have the ordinary termination, and 
 that the transports bound for Portugal would soon re- 
 turn, as others had returned before them from St. Do- 
 mingo and the Ilelder, from Quiberon 13ay and Ferrol. 
 Nor was it owing, indeed, either to the wisdom of tlie 
 nation or the strength of the cause that sucli predictions 
 were belied by the triumphs and glories of an immortal 
 war. 
 
 To comprehend the service now intrusted to Sir A. 
 Wellesley it will be necessary to retain constantly in 
 mind the circumstances and persuasions under which it 
 was undertaken. The actual state of the countries 
 which it was proposed to succour was only known 
 from the exaggerated descriptions of the Spanish pa- 
 triots, who represented themselves as irresistible in 
 military strength, and as needing nothing but stores 
 and money to expel the French from the Peninsula. 
 Nothing was ascertained respecting Napoleon's actual 
 force in these parts ; and, although it might reasonably 
 have been infeiTed, from the continental peace, that the 
 whole hosts of the French Empire were disposable on 
 the one side, and, from the contradictory reports of the 
 Spanish envoys themselves, that neither unity nor in- 
 telligence existed on the other, these simple deductions 
 were not drawn. The British Ministry had despatched 
 the expedition without any purpose more definite than 
 that of aiding in the resistance unexpectedly offered to 
 France on the Peninsular territories. It had not been 
 determined whether the landing should be effected in 
 
66 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Portugal or Spain, and, with the latter country, indeed, 
 we were nominally at war when the armament was de- 
 creed. Neither was the single appointment which 
 compensated all these deficiencies the result of any 
 general or deliberate convictions. The nomination of 
 Sir Arthur Wellesley to the command was chiefly due 
 to the individual sagacity of Lord Castlereagh, whose 
 judgment on this point was considerably in advance of 
 that of other and higher authorities. Even this ap- 
 pointment itself, too, was intended to be nugatory, for 
 Sir Arthur was to suri-ender tlie command to Sir Harry 
 Burrard, who was in turn to make way for Sir Hew 
 Dalrymple, and in the form which the expedition shortly 
 afterwards assumed no fewer than six general officers 
 were placed above him, into whose hands the conduct 
 of the war was ultimately to fall. 
 
 True, however, to that spirit of his profession which 
 forbade him to balance his own feelino-s ajyainst the 
 good of the service or the decisions of the Government, 
 Sir Arthur departed on his mission, preceding the ex- 
 peditionary armament in a fast frigate, for the purpose 
 of obtaining more information than was already pos- 
 sessed respecting the destination to be given to it. 
 With these views he landed on the coast, and conferred 
 with the juntas directing the affairs of the insurrection. 
 His inquiries soon proved conclusive if not satisfactory, 
 and lie decided with characteristic penetration, that "it 
 was impossible to learn the truth." In point of fact, 
 at the moment when the expedition was hovering ir- 
 resolutely between the Douro and the Tagus — that i« 
 to say at the conclusion of July, 1808 — the Spaniards 
 had really experienced extraordinary success at Baylen ; 
 
PROSPECTS. 6Y 
 
 but this victory was unknown to those who vaunted to 
 Sir Arthur the magnitude of their forces, and whose 
 ignorant vain-gloriousness was instantly detected by his 
 acute and impartial vision. Dupont had been circum- 
 vented in the south, but the other French Generals had 
 been easily victorious in the north, and a force was at 
 hand under Napoleon sufficient to sweep the country 
 between the Pyrenees and Madrid, The patriot levies 
 were miserably destitute of equipments and discipline, 
 and below their reported strength even in mere num- 
 bers ; their rulers were mostly devoid of any better 
 qualities for the contest than national obstinacy and 
 thoroughgoing hate, while as to unity of purpose or or- 
 ganization of means there were no such features visible 
 in any quarter of the Peninsula. Portugal offered 
 somewhat better opportunities. Its geographical po- 
 sition favoured the designs of the English commander, 
 and its internal conditions offered considerable induce- 
 ments to a descent on these parts. Junot, cut oft' from 
 all communication with his colleagues in the Peninsula, 
 was maintaining his ground with difficulty at Lisbon 
 between the insurgents of Portugal and the menacing 
 patriots of Spain. The troops under his command 
 amounted to fully 25,000 men, but so many detach- 
 ments were required for various services that his dis- 
 posable force could only become formidable by virtue 
 of greater military skill than he happened to possess. 
 He himself lay with a large garrison at Lisbon, and on 
 the first rumours of the British expedition he despatched 
 General Loison with a movable column of some 7,000 
 men, to scour the country, overwhelm the insuri'ection, 
 and " drive the English into the sea." 
 
68 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 After ascertaining and estimating these prospects 
 to the best of his power, Sir Arthur Wellesley decided 
 on the disembarking his troops in Mondego Bay, about 
 midway between Oporto and Lisbon — a resolution 
 which ho successfullv executed at the beo-innino; of Au- 
 gust. The force actually landed from the transports 
 amounted to about 9,000 men ; but they were presently 
 joined by that of another little expedition which had 
 been operating in the south of Spain, and Sir Arthur 
 thus found himself at the head of some 14,000 excel- 
 lent soldiers. Besides these, however, the British Go- 
 vernment, as the design of liberating the Peninsula 
 gradually assumed substance and dignity, determined 
 on despatching two others of their corps-errant, one of 
 which, nearly 12,000 strong, under Sir John Moore, 
 was in a state of discipline not inferior to that of Napo- 
 leon's best brigades. 30,000 troops, therefore, were 
 eventually to represent the arms of England in tliis 
 memorable service ; but wisdom had to be learnt be- 
 fore Wellesley was placed at their head, and it was with 
 13,000 only, and a provisional command, that the great 
 captain of the age commenced on the 9th of August his 
 first march in the Peninsular AVar. 
 
 The intention of Sir Arthur, who in the absence of 
 his two seniors still retained the direction of affairs, was 
 to march on Lisbon by the seacoast, in order to draw 
 from the English store-ships in the offing those supplies 
 which he had already discovered it was hopeless to ex- 
 pect from the resources of Portugal itself ; one of the 
 earliest piopositions of the Portuguese commander hav- 
 ing suggested that his own troops should be fed from 
 the British commissariat instead of the British troops 
 
FIRST ACTION OF THE WAR. 69 
 
 from his. Reinforced, if the term can be used, at this 
 period with a small detachment of the native army, Sir 
 Arthur now mustered nearly 15,000 sabres and bayo- 
 nets. To oppose him, Loison had about 7,000 men, 
 Laborde about 5,000, and Junot, at headquarters, some 
 10,000 more. Of these commanders Loison was on 
 the left of the British route, and Laborde in front; nor 
 was Sir Arthur's information accurate enough to enable 
 him to estimate the point or period of their probable 
 junction. As events turned out, his military instinct 
 had divined the course proper to be pursued, for by 
 pressing forward on Laborde he interposed himself be- 
 tween this general and Loison, and encountered his 
 enemies in detail. Laborde's outposts at Ovidos were 
 promptly driven in on the 15th, and on the iVth Sir 
 Arthur came up with his antagonist on the heights of 
 Roli(;a, and there gained the first action of the war. 
 The engagement was sustained with great spirit; for 
 Laborde, though outnumbered, availed himself to the 
 utmost of his strength of position, nor was it without 
 serious loss on both sides that he was at length com- 
 pelled to retire. After this satisfactory essay of arms 
 Sir Arthur prepared to meet Junot, who would, he was 
 well aware, summon all his strength for the now in- 
 evitable encounter, and who had in fact concentrated 
 16,000 men with 21 guns at Torres Vedras, between 
 Sir Arthur's position and Lisbon. Still moving by the 
 coast, the British commander was fortunately reinforced 
 on his march by one of the detachments despatched 
 from home, as we before observed, to participate in the 
 expedition, and his force was thus augmented to 18,000 
 effective men. With these means he proposed to turn 
 
70 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Junot's position at Torres Vedras b}" passing between 
 it and the sea with his advanced guard, while the main 
 body occupied the enemy's attention in front, so that 
 the French general would either be cut oft* from Lisbon 
 or driven to a precipitate retreat. These able disposi- 
 tions, however, were not brought to the test of trial ; 
 for at this moment Sir Harry Burrard arrived off the 
 coast, and, without quitting his ship or troubling him- 
 self to confirm by his own observation the representa- 
 tions of Sir Arthur, counter-ordered the proposed march, 
 and gave directions for halting on the ground then oc- 
 cupied — the hills of Vimiera — until the arrival of the 
 other and larger reinforcement expected from England 
 under Sir John Moore. 
 
 Among the facts which Sir Arthur had laboured to 
 impress on his intractable superior, was that of the cer- 
 tainty of imniediately receiving the attack which he 
 was declining to give — a conclusion which was prompt- 
 ly verified by the appearance of Junot in battle array 
 the very next morning. The estimates, therefore, re- 
 spectively formed by Sir Harry and Sir Arthur con- 
 cerning the rehxtive capacities of the two armies were 
 presently to be certified by experience, and the decisive 
 defeat of Junot at every point of his attack, with the 
 loss of 3,000 men and nearly all his artillery, might 
 have been thought decisive of the question in the eyes 
 of imj^artial observers. Sir Harry, however, was still 
 lUK'onvinced, and, in his firm pereuasion of the supe- 
 riority of the French, refused the permission now 
 earnestly entreated by Sir Arthur to intercept the en- 
 cumbered brigades of the enemy, and complete his dis- 
 comfiture by cutting oft' his retreat to Torres Vedras. 
 
CONVENTION AT CINTRA. 71 
 
 It was on this occasion that Sir Arthur, seeing the 
 sacrifice of an opportunity wliich might have been 
 turned to tlie completion of the war, turned round and 
 said to his staff — " Well, then, gentlemen, we may go 
 now and shoot red-legged partridges." 
 
 No sooner had this supercession of Sir Arthur Wcl- 
 lesley occurred than a second change took place in the 
 command of the English force, and the arrangements 
 of the British Government were notably exemplified by 
 the arrival on the scene of Sir Hew Dalrymple, who im- 
 mediately displaced Sir Henry Burrard, as Sir Henry 
 Burrard had displaced Sir Arthur Wellesley. Unfortu- 
 nately, the new general inclined to the opinions of his 
 second in command, rather than to the more enterpris- 
 ing tactics of the future hero of the Peninsula, and he 
 persisted in the belief that Sir Jolm Moore's corps should 
 be allowed to come up before operations were recom- 
 menced. The best commentary on Sir Arthur's advice 
 is to be found in the fact that Junot himself presently 
 proposed a suspension of arms, with a view to the com- 
 plete evacuation of Portugal by the French. A con- 
 vention, in fiict, was concluded on these terms, at Cintra, 
 within a fortnight after the battle ; but so adroitly had 
 Junot and his comrades availed themselves of the im- 
 pressions existing at the British head-quarters that, 
 though beaten in the field, they maintained in the ne- 
 gotiations the ascendency of the stronger party, and 
 eventually secured conditions far more favourable than 
 they were entitled to demand. It happened that Sir 
 Arthur Wellesley had been made, under Sir Hew ])al- 
 rymple's immediate orders, the negotiating oflScer at the 
 first agreement between the belligerents, and it was his 
 
72 TFIE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 name which appeared at the foot of the instrument. 
 When, therefore, the indignation of Englishmen was, 
 with some justice, roused at this sacrifice of their tri- 
 umphs, and the convention made the subject of official 
 inquiry, CJoneral Wollesley incurred the first shock of 
 public censure. Further investigation, however, not 
 only exculpated him from all responsibility, but brought 
 to light his earnest, though ineffectual endeavours, to 
 procure a ditferent result, and the country was soon 
 satisfied that if the conqueror of Roli^a and Vimiera 
 had been undisturbed in his arrangements, the whole 
 French army must have been prisoners of war. Yet, 
 even as things stood, the success achieved was of no or- 
 dinary character. The British soldiers had measured 
 their swords against some of ihe best troops of the Em- 
 pire, and with signal success. The "Sepoy General" 
 had indisputably shown that his powei-s were not lim- 
 ited to Oriental campaigns. lie had eft'ected the dis- 
 embarcation of his troops — always a most hazardous 
 feat — without loss, had gained two well contested bat- 
 tles; and in less than a single month liad actually 
 cleared the kingdom of Portugal of its invaders. The 
 army, with its intuitive judgment, had formed a correct 
 appreciation of his services, and tlie field-officers engaged 
 at Vimiera testified their opinions of their commander 
 by a valuable gift ; but it was clear that no place re- 
 mained for General AVellesley under his new superiors, 
 and he accordingly returned to England, bringing with 
 him conceptions of Spanish afi'airs which were but too 
 speedily verified by events. 
 
 While Sir Arthur Wellesley, having resumed his 
 Irish Secretaryship and his seat in Parliament, was oc- 
 
AFFAIRS IN PORTUGAL. 73 
 
 cupyiiig: himself with the civil duties of his oflice, and 
 endenvouring to promote ii bettor comprehension of Pe- 
 ninsular politics, an abrupt change of fortune had whol- 
 ly reversed the relative positions of the French and 
 English in those parts. The successes of the summer 
 and autumn had expelled Napoleon's forces from Portu- 
 gal, and from nearly nine-tenths of the territory of 
 Spain, the only ground still occupied by the invaders 
 being a portion of the mountainous districts behind the 
 Ebro. Thus, after sweeping the whole Peninsula before 
 them by a single ma?^h, and establishing themselves at 
 Madrid and Lisbon with less trouble than had been ex- 
 perienced at Brussels or Amsterdam, the French armies 
 found themselves suddenly driven back, by a return tide 
 of conquest, to the very foot of the Pyrenees ; and now, 
 in like manner, the English, after gaining possession of 
 Portugal in a month's campaign, and closing round 
 upon their enemies in Spain as if to complete the victo- 
 ry, were as suddenly hurled back again to the coast, 
 while the Peninsula again passed apparently under the 
 dominion of Napoleon, to be finally rescued by a strug- 
 gle of tenfold severity. Sir Arthur Wellesley quitted 
 Portugal towards the end of September, leaving behind 
 him a British force of some 30,000 men, committed to 
 an indefinite co-operation with the Spanish patriots. 
 At this period the remains of the French armies of oc- 
 cupation were, as we have said, collected behind the 
 l^^bro, in mimber, perhaps, about 50,000 or 00,000, 
 while the Spanish forces, in numerical strength at least 
 double, wt'i'c disposed around them in a wide semicir- 
 cular cordon, from Bilbao to r)ar(.'clona; and it was 
 conceived that an English army advancing from the 
 
74 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 west would at once give the finishing impulse to the 
 campaign. But, in point of fact, these appearances 
 were on both sides delusive. The Spanish armies were 
 deficient in every point but that of individual enthusi- 
 asm. They were almost destitute of military provisions 
 and were under no efi'ective command. The adminis- 
 tration of the country since the insurrection had been 
 conducted by provincial juntas acting independently of 
 each other, and, although an attempt had been made 
 to centralize these powers by the organization of a su- 
 preme junta at Aranjuez, little success had as yet attend- 
 ed the experiment. The consequence was a total dis- 
 traction of counsels, an utter confusion of government, 
 and a general spirit of self-will and insubordination, 
 which the recent successes only tended to increase. 
 Such was the true condition of the patriot forces. On 
 the other hand, the Fi-ench, though repulsed for the 
 moment, were close to the inexhaustible resources of 
 their own country ; and Napoleon, with a perfect ap- 
 preciation of the scene before him, was preparing one 
 of those decisive blows which none better than he knew 
 how to deal. The army behind the Ebro had been 
 rapidly reinforced to the amount of 150,000 men, and 
 at tlie beginning of November the Emperor arrived in 
 person to assume the command. At this conjuncture 
 Sir John Moore, who, it will be remembered, had 
 brought the last and largest detachment to the array of 
 Portugal, and who had remained in that country while 
 the other generals had repaired to England pending the 
 inquiry into the convention of Cintra, was directed to 
 take the command of 21,000 men from the army of 
 Portugal, to unite with a corps of 7,000 more despatched 
 
SIR JOHN' MOORE. 75 
 
 to Corunna under Sir David Baird, and to co-operate 
 with the Spanish forces beleagnerin ;• the French, as we 
 have described, in the south-eastern ano-le of the Penin- 
 sula. In pursuance of these instructions. Sir John 
 Moore, by a series of movements which we are not called 
 upon in this place to criticise, succeeded in collecting at 
 Salamanca by the end of November the troops under 
 his own command, while Sir David Faird's corps had 
 penetrated as far as Astorga. But the opportunity of 
 favourable action, if ever it had really existed, was now 
 past. Suddenly advancing with an imposing force of 
 the finest troops of the empire. Napoleon had burst 
 through the weak lines of his opponents, had crushed 
 their armies to the right and left by a succession of irre- 
 sistible blows, was scouring with his cavalry the plains 
 of Leon and Castile, forced the Somosierra pass on the 
 30th of November, and four days afterwards was in un- 
 disputed possession of Madrid. Meantime Sir John 
 Moore, misled by false intelligence, disturbed by the 
 importunities of our own Minister at Aranjuez, disheart- 
 ened by his observation of Spanish politics, and despair- 
 ing of any substantial success against an enemy of 
 whose strength he was now aware, determined, after long 
 hesitation, on advancing into the country, with the 
 hope of some advantage against the corps of Soult, iso- 
 lated, as he thought, at Saldanha. The result of this 
 movement was to bring Napoleon from' Madrid "n such 
 force as to compel the rapid retreat of the English to 
 Corunna under circumstances which we need not re- 
 count ; and thus by the commencement of tlie year 
 1809, Spain was again occupied by the French, while 
 the English army, so recently victorious in Portugal, 
 
TIIK UVKK OK WKI.LINU ION. 
 
 was saving itself by sea without having struck a blow, 
 except in selt'-dotenco at its euibaivntion. 
 
 Napoleon, botore ISKhmv's corps li;ul actually loft 
 Coniiuia, conceived the war at an end, and, in issuing 
 instructions to his marshals, antici}>ateil, with no uu- 
 reasiuiable ciuilidence, the complete subjugation oi' the 
 Peninsida. Excepting, indeed, some isolated district* in 
 the south-east, the oidy j^arts now in possession of the 
 Spaniards or their alhes were Andalusia, which had 
 been saved by the i>recipitate recall of Napoleon to the 
 North, and Tortugal, which, still in arms against the 
 French, was nonunally occupiinl by a l^ritish corps of 
 10,000 men, left there muler Sir John C'radock at the 
 time of (icneral Moore's de}\arture with the bulk of 
 the army tor Spain. The ]n'oct\'ding"s of the French 
 mai*shals tor the recovery o{' the entire IVninsula were 
 speedily arranged. Lannes took the direction o\' tiie 
 siege i>f Saragossa, where the Spaniards, lighting as 
 usual with admirable constancy from behind stone walls, 
 were holding two French corps at bay. Lefebvre dro'" 
 one S]>anish army into the recesses of the Sierra Mi 
 and \ictor chased another into the fastnesses of Murcia. 
 Meantime Soult, at\er recoiling awhile from the dying 
 blows oi' Moore, had ]>romptly occupied tiallicia after 
 the departure o\' the Fnglish, and was preparing to 
 crojis the Portuguese frontier on his work of conquest 
 In aid of this design, it was concerted that while the 
 last-named ma>-shal advanced from the north, Victor, 
 bv way of IClvas, and l.apisse, b}' way ot' Almeida, 
 sho\dd converge together ujhmi IVrlugal, and that when 
 the Fuiilish at LisKui had been driven to their ships, 
 tilt) several corps should unite for the tinal subjugation 
 
KAllLY KMHAKUASSMKNTS. 77 
 
 of the Peninsula, by the oeeupntion of Andulusin. Ac- 
 cordingly, leaving Ney to maintain the ground already 
 won, Soult descended with 30,000 men u])on tlie Douro, 
 and by the end of Mardi was in secure possession of 
 ()j)()rto. Had he continued his advance, it is not im- 
 possible that the campaign might have had the termina- 
 tion he desired ; but at this point, ho waited for intelli- 
 geiice of tlie Englisli in liis front and of Victor and La- 
 pisse on liis tlank. His caution saved Portugal, for, 
 while he still hesitated on the brink of the Douro, there 
 again arrived in the Tagus that renowned comman- 
 der, before whose genius tlie fortunes not only of the 
 marshals, but of their imperial master, were finally to 
 fail. 
 
 England was now at the commencement of her 
 greatest war. The system of small expeditions and 
 insignificant divtirsions, though not yet conclusively 
 abandoned, was soon superseded by the glories of a 
 visible contest; and in a short time it was known and 
 "'Ui-by a great majority of llic nation, that on the field 
 
 iA Peninsula Kngland was fairly j>itted against 
 France, and playing her own chosen part in the Euro- 
 pean struggle. Put thes(i convictions were not pre- 
 valent enough at the outset to facilitate in any material 
 degree the duties of the Ministry or the work of the 
 (Jeneral; on tlie contrary, so com]>licat(d were the 
 (Mubarrassments attending the prosecution of the war 
 on the scale required, that to surmount them de- 
 manded little less wisdom or patience than the conduct 
 of the actual campaign. In the first instance, the 
 Pritish nation had been extravagantly excited by the 
 successful insurrections of the Spaniards, and the events 
 
78 
 
 TIIK DUKK OF WKLLINOTON. 
 
 of our Gxpcri mental campai£>'n in Portup^al had so in- 
 spired lli.> piiMic mind, (li.'it ovoii tho cvaoualion ol' tliat 
 kiii<>(loin l)y (lur iM-tnich was ooiisidorod, as wo liavo 
 so»Mi, in t.lio liu'lit of an iinporfoct rosnlt. Whon, liow- 
 ovMj\ llioso conditions of tlio slrn<;'<;lo woro vai)idly ox- 
 c) nno'i'd for tho total disoonitituro of tlio ]^a(rio(s, the 
 iv.'ajihirc (»f Madrid, and the precipitate retreat of the 
 British army, witii the loss of its commander, and the 
 aalvatii>n of little but its honor, popidar opinion veered 
 (juii'lvly towards its customary point, and it was loudly 
 proelaimeii that the French Kniperor was invincible by 
 land, and that a contest with liis legions on that ele- 
 ment must inevitably prove ruinous to l^ritain. But 
 the government of the day, originally receiving it.s im- 
 pulse froni j)ublic feeling, had gradually acquired iiide- 
 pendent convictions on tins mighty (piestion, and was 
 imw prepared to maintain the interests of the nation 
 against the clamours oi' the nation itself. Acc(U-dingly, 
 at the commencement of the year 18011, when the pros- 
 poctvS of Spanish in(K>pendence were at their very 
 gloomiest ]>oint, the Ihitish Cabinet had proposed and 
 ciMiclnded a con>j>rehcnsive treaty of alliance witli tho 
 Provisional Administration of Spain ; and it was now 
 resolved that the contest in the reninsnla should be 
 continued o\\ a scale more eflectual than before, and 
 that the principal, instead of the secondary, part should 
 be borne by Kngland. Vet this decision was not taken 
 without nuuh hesitation and considerable resistance; 
 and it was elear to all observant spectators that, though 
 the t»j>inions o\' the (unernmcnt, rather than those of 
 the opposition, might preptuulerate in the public mind, 
 tlioir ascendency was not so complete but that the tii-st 
 
I'ROPOHTIONS OF TllK VORCES. 79 
 
 incidents of failure, loss, or difficulty, would be turned 
 to licrious account against the promoters and conduc- 
 tors of the war. 
 
 Nor were these misgivini>s, though often ])ret»Muled 
 for the ])ur])ose of faction, without a certain warrant of 
 trulh; indeed, few can read the history of this strugirlo 
 without perceiving that the single point which concluded 
 it in our favour, was the genius of that great man who 
 lias just exi)ired. It has been attempted to show that 
 the military forces of France and England at this period 
 were not in reality so dis])roportioned as they appeared 
 to be, but we confess our own inability to discover the 
 balance alleged. It is beyond doubt that the national 
 spirit remained unchanged, and that the individual 
 excellence of the British soldier Avas unimpeachable 
 Much, too, liad been done in the way of organization 
 by the measures consequent on the protracted menace 
 of invasion, and much in the way of encouragement by 
 the succeswes in I^'gypt and l\>i;tugal no less than the 
 triumphs in India. lint in war numerical force must 
 needs tell with enormous eftect, and on this point Eng- 
 land's colonial requirements left licr little to show 
 against the myriads of the continent. It was calculated 
 at the lime that 00,000 liritish soldiers iniyht have 
 been made disposable for the I^eninsular service, but 
 at no |Ku-iod of the war was such a force ever actually 
 collected under the standards of Wellington, while Na- 
 poleon could m.'iintain his ^500,000 warriors in Spain, 
 whithout disabling the arms of the Empire on the 
 Danube or the Rhine. We had allies, it is true, in the 
 troops of the country ; but these at first were little 
 better thati refractory recruits, recjuiring all- the acce«- 
 
80 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 scries of discipline, equipment, and organization ; jeal- 
 ous of all foreigners even as friends, and not unreason- 
 ably suspicious of supporters, who could always tind in 
 their ships a refuge which was denied to themselves. 
 But above all these difficulties was that arising from the 
 inexperience uf the Government in continental warfere. 
 Habituated to expeditions reducible to the compass of a 
 few transports, unaccustomed to the contingencies of 
 regular war, and harassed by a vigilant and not always 
 conscientious Opposition, the Ministry had to consume 
 half its strength at home ; and the commander of the 
 army, in justifying his most skilful dispositions, or pro- 
 curing needful supplies for the troops under his charge, 
 was driven to the very extremities of expostulation 
 and remonstrance. 
 
 AVhen, however, with these ambiguous prospects, 
 the Government did at length resolve on the systematic 
 prosecution of the Peninsular war, the eyes of the na- 
 tion were at once instinctively turned on Sir Arthur 
 Wellesley as the general to conduct it. Independently 
 of the proofs he had already given of his quality at 
 Rolicja and Vimiera, this enterprising and sagacious 
 soldier stood almost alone in his confidence respecting 
 the undertaking on hand. Arguing from the military 
 position of Portugal, as flanking the long territory 
 of Spain, from the natural features of the country 
 (which he had already studied), and from the means 
 of reinforcement and retreat securely provided by the 
 sea, he stoutly declared his opinion that Portugal was 
 tenable against the French, even if actual possessoi"s of 
 Spain, and that it offered ample opportunities of influ- 
 encing the great result of the wai*. With these views 
 
ARRIVAL IN THE TAGUS. 81 
 
 he recommended that the Portuguese army should be 
 organized at its full strength ; that it should be in part 
 taken into British pay and under the direction of 
 British officers, and that a force of not less than 30,000 
 English troops should be despatched to keep this army 
 together. So provided, he undertook the management 
 of the war, and such were his resources, his tenacity, 
 and his skill, that though 280,000 French soldiers were 
 closing round Portugal as he landed at Lisbon, and 
 though difficulties of the most arduous kind awaited 
 him in his task, he neither flinched nor failed until he 
 had led his little army in triumph, not only from the 
 Tagus to the Ebro, but across the Pyrenees into France, 
 and returned himself by Calais to England after wit- 
 nessing the downfall of the French capital. 
 
 Yet, so perilous was the conjuncture when the weight 
 of afi'airs was thus thrown upon his shoulders, that a 
 few weeks' more delay must have destroyed every pros- 
 pect of success. Not only was Soult, as we stated, 
 collecting himself for a swoop on the towers of Lisbon, 
 but the Portuguese themselves were distrustful of our 
 support, and the English troops, while daily preparing 
 for embarcation, were com})elled to assume a defensive 
 attitude against those whose cause they were maintain- 
 ing. But such was the j)restiue already attached to 
 Wellesley's name that his arrival in the Tagus changed 
 every feature of the scene. No longer suspicious of 
 our intentions, the Portuguese Government gave prompt 
 effect to the suggestions of the English commander; 
 levies wei-e decreed and organized, provisions collected, 
 depots established, and a spirit of confidence again per- 
 vaded the country, which was unqualified on this occa 
 "'4* 
 
82 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 sion by that jealous distrust which liad formerly neutral- 
 ized its effects. The oominand in chief of the native 
 army was intrusted to an English officer of great dis- 
 tinction, General Ueresford, and no time was lost in 
 once more testing the efficacy of the Britisli arms. 
 
 Our description of the positions relatively occujiied 
 by the contending parties at this juncture will, perhaps, 
 be remembered. Soult, having left Ney to control the 
 north, was at Oporto, with 24,000 men, preparing to 
 cross the Doiiro and descend upon Lisbon, w'hile Victor 
 and Lapisse, with 30,000 more, were to co-o]->erate in 
 the attack from the contiguous provinces of Kstrema- 
 dura and Leon. Of the Spanish armies we need only 
 say that they had been repeatedly routed with more or 
 less disgrace, though Cuesta still held a certain force 
 together in the valley of the Tagus. There w'ere there- 
 fore two courses open to the British commander — either 
 to repel the menaced advance of Soult by marching on 
 Oporto or to effect a junction witli Cuesta, and try the 
 result of a demonstration upon Madrid. The latter of 
 these plans was wisely postponed for the moment, and, 
 preference having been decisively given to the former, 
 the troops^ at once commeneed their march upon the 
 Douro. The British force under Sir Arthur Wellesley's 
 command amounted at this time to about 20,000 men, 
 to which about 15,000 Portuguese in a respectable 
 state of organization were added by the exertions of 
 Beresford. Of these about 24,000 were now led 
 against Soult, who, though not inferior in strength, no 
 sooner ascertained the advance of the English com- 
 mander tlian he arranged for a retreat, by detaching 
 Loison with 6,000 men to dislodge a Portuguese post 
 
PJ^SSAGE OF THE DOURO. 83 
 
 in his left rear. Sir Arthur's intention was to envelope, 
 if possible, the French corps by pushing forward a 
 strong force upon its left, and then intercepting its re- 
 treat towards Ney's position, while the main body as- 
 saulted Soult in his quarters at Oporto. The former of 
 these operations he intrusted to Beresford, the latter he 
 directed in person. On the 12th of May the troops 
 reached the southern bank of the Douro ; the waters of 
 which, 300 yards in width, rolled between them and 
 their adversaries. In anticipation of the attack Soult 
 had destroyed the floating-bridge, had collected all the 
 boats on the opposite side, and there, with his forces 
 well in hand for action or retreat, was looking from the 
 window of his lodging, enjoying the presumed discom- 
 fiture of his opponent. To attempt such a passage as 
 this in face of one of the ablest marshals of France was, 
 indeed, an audacious stroke, but it was not beyond the 
 daring of that genius which M. Thiers describes as cal- 
 culated only for the stolid operations of defensive war. 
 Availing himself of a point where the river by a bend 
 in its course was not easily visible from the town. Sir 
 Arthur determined on transporting, if possible, a few 
 troops to the northern bank, and occupying an unfin- 
 ished stone building, which he perceived was capable 
 of afibrding temporary cover. The means were soon 
 supplied by the activity of Colonel Waters — an officer 
 whose habitual audacity rendered him one of the heroes 
 of this memorable war. Crossing in a skiff* to the op 
 posite bank, he retunied with two or three, boats, and 
 in a few minutes a company of the Buffs was estab- 
 lished in the building. Reinforcements quickly fol- 
 lowed, but not without discovery. The alai-m was 
 
84 TMK m'KIC OK WKLLINOTON. 
 
 given, and presently the oditiee was enveloped by the 
 eager battalions of the Frenoli. The Britisli, however, 
 lield their ground ; a passage was eft'ected at other 
 points during the struggle ; the French, after an inef- 
 footiial resistance, were fain to abandon the city in pre- 
 ci})italion, and Sir Arthur, after his unexampled feat of 
 arms, sat down that evening to the dinner which had 
 been ]>re[)ared for Soult. Nor did the disasters of the 
 French mai-shal terminate here, for, though the designs 
 of the British commander had been partially frustrated 
 by the intelligence gained by the enemy, yet the Frcncli 
 communications were so far intercepted, that Soult only 
 joined Ney after losses and privations little short of 
 those which had been experienced by Sir John Moore. 
 
 Tliis brilliant operation being etfccted, Sir Arthur 
 was now at liberty to turn to the main project of the 
 campaign — that to whicli, in fact, the attack upon Soult 
 had been subsidiary — the defeat of Victor in Estrema- 
 dun» ; and, as the force under this marshal's command 
 was not greater than tliat which liad been so decisively 
 defeated at Oporto, some contidence might naturally be 
 entertained in calculating upon the result, l^ut, at this 
 time, the various ditViculties of the English commander 
 began to disclose themselves. Though his losses had 
 been extremely small in the recent actions, considering 
 the im]>ortance of their results, the troops were sutfcriug 
 severely from sickness, at least 4,000 being in liospital, 
 while supplies of all kinds were miserably deticient^ 
 through the imperfections of the commissariat. The 
 soldiers were nearly barcf»H>tcil, their j>ay was largely 
 in arrear, anil the military chest was empty. In ad- 
 dition to this, although the real weakness of the Spanish 
 
TALAVKllA. 86 
 
 amnios was not yet fully known, it was clearly discerni- 
 ble that the character of their coinin;ui(l(!rs would pre- 
 clude any clfective concert in tli«'. joint opcrutioiiH of 
 the allied force. Cuesta would take no advic*^, and in- 
 Hist(Ml on the adoption of his own sehcnK^H, with Huch 
 obstinacy, that Sir Arthur was compelled to frame his 
 plans accordiufrly. instead, therefore, of circumventinuj 
 Victor, as he had intended, he advanced into Spain at tiie 
 beginning of July, to ett'ect a junction with (Juosta, and 
 f(!el his way towards Madrid. Tiie arnii(!s, when united, 
 formed a mass of 7H, ()()() (•(»nd)atanls ; but, of these, 
 50,000 were Spanisii, :iiid f(»r tiu! brunt of war Sir 
 Arthur could only nnkon on his '22,000 liritish troops 
 — Beresford's J 'ortuguisse having been despatched to 
 the north of Tortugal. On the other side, Victor's 
 forci! h.'id b(!en strenglluMied by the succours which 
 ,)()scph Uonaparte, alarmed for tlui safety of Madrid, 
 had hastily conc«!ntrat<'(l at Toledo ; and when the two 
 armies at length confronted each other at Talavera, it 
 was found that .05,000 excellent Friiuch troops W(!ro 
 arrayed against Sir Arthur and his ally, while nearly 
 as many more were (hisct-nding from (he north on the 
 line of the 15ritish communications along the valley of 
 the Tagus. On the 28th of July, the liritish ('om- 
 mander, after making the Ixjst dispcjsitions in his 
 power, Hiceived the attack of the French, directetl by 
 J()se[)h Bonaparte in person, with Victor and Jourdan 
 at his sid<^, and after an engagement of great sev(!rity, 
 in which the Spaniards were virtually inaclJve, he re- 
 mained master of the iield against double his numbers, 
 having repulsed the enemy at all points, with heavy 
 loss, and having captured several iiundred prisoners 
 
86 TIIK DUKE OB' WELLINGTON. 
 
 and seventeen pieces of cannon, in this, the fii-st gi'eat 
 pitched battle between the French and English in the 
 Poninsula. 
 
 In this well fought field o\' Talavora, tl»o French had 
 thrown, for the first time, their whole dispa^able foicc 
 u]>on the British army, without success; and Sir Ar- 
 tlmr NA'ellesley inferred, with a justifiable confidence, 
 that the relative superiority of his troops to those of 
 the KmjH^ror. was practically decided. Jomini, the 
 French militMry historian, confesses almost as much, 
 and the opinions of Napoleon himself, as visible in his 
 correspondence, underwent from that moment a serious 
 change. Yet at home, the people, wholly unaccus- 
 tomed to the contingencies of a real war, and the Op- 
 position, unscrupulously employing the delusions of the 
 people, combined in decrying the victx^ry, denouncing 
 the successful general, anil despairing of the whole en- 
 terprise. The city of London, even, recorded on a 
 petition, its discontent with the " raslnivit.t, oafcntation, 
 and vfu'less j'rt/owr," of that commander whom M. Thiers 
 depicts as endowed solely with the slugfjish and phleg- 
 matic tenacity of his countrymen ; and though Minis- 
 ters succeeded in procuring an acknowledgment of the 
 services performed, and a warrant for pei"sisting in the 
 ettbrt; both they and the l^ritish General were sadly 
 crampCil in the means of action. Sir Arthur Welles- 
 ley became, indeed, " Baron Pouro, of AVellesley, and 
 VisciMint Wellington of Talavern, and of Wellington, in 
 the county o\' Somerset;" but the Government wjis 
 afraid to maintain his etfective means even at the 
 nuHlerate amount for which he had stipulated, an*! they 
 gave him plainly to nnderst.nul that the responsibility 
 
EFFOUTS l)K N AI'OI.KON. 87 
 
 of the war must rest upon his own shouklors. He 
 aecepted it, and, in full relijince on liis own resources 
 and the tried v.-Uour ol'liis troo])s, .-iwailiHl llie sluxk wlilch 
 was at liaiid. 
 
 The battle of Talavera acted on the Emperor Napo- 
 leon exactly like the Kattle of Viniiera. His best sol- 
 diei-s had failed aoainst tliose leil by (he " Sepoy Gene- 
 ral," and he became seriously alarmed for his con((uest 
 of Spain. After Vimiera he rushed, at the head of his 
 guards, throuoli Sonu)sierra to Mach-id ; and now, after 
 Talavera, he prepared a still nioi'O redoubtable invasion. 
 Relieved from his continental liabilities by the cam- 
 paigns of Aspern and Waijrani, and from nearer ap])re- 
 hensions by the discomfiture of our ex})edition to Wal- 
 cheren, he poured his now disposable leii^ions in extra- 
 ordinary numbers through the j)asses of the Pyrenees. 
 Nine powerful corps, mustering fully 280,000 eftective 
 men, under Marshals Victor, Ney, Soult, Mortier, and 
 Massena, with a crowd of asjtiring generals besides, re- 
 presented the force detinitely charged with the final sub- 
 jugation of the Peninsula.. To meet the shock of this 
 stupendous array Wellington had the 20,000 troops of 
 Talavera augmented, besides other reinforcements, by 
 that memorable brigade which, under the name of the 
 Light Division, became afterwards the admiration of 
 both armies. In addition, lie had Beresford's Portu- 
 guese levies, now 30,000 strong, well discii>liued, and 
 capabk* as events showed, of becoming first-rate sol- 
 diers, making a total of some 55,000 disposable troops, 
 independent of garrisons and detachments. All hopes 
 of eftectual co-operation from Spain had now vanished. 
 Disregarding the sage advice of Wellington, the Spanish 
 
88 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 generals had consigned themselves and their armies to 
 inevitable destruction, and of the whole kingdom Gibral- 
 tar and Cadiz alone had escaped the swoop of the vic- 
 torious French. The Provisional Administration dis- 
 played neither resolution nor sincerity, the British forces 
 were sutlered absolutely to starve, and AVellington was 
 unable to extort from the leaders around him the small- 
 est assistance for that army which was the last support 
 of Spanish freedom. It was under such circumstances, 
 with forces full of spirit, but numerically weak, without 
 any assurance of sympathy at home, without money or 
 supplies on the spot, and in the face of Napoleon's best 
 marshal, with 80,000 troops in line, and 40,000 in re- 
 serve, that Wellington entered on the campaign of 
 1810 — a campaign pronounced by military critics to bo 
 inferior to none in his whole career. 
 
 AVithdrawing, after the victory oi' Talavera, from the 
 concentrating forces of the enemy attracted by his ad- 
 vance, he had at first taken post on the Cniadiana, until, 
 wearied out by Spanisli insincerity and perverseness, he 
 moved his army to the ^londego, preparatory to those 
 encounters which he foresaw the defence of I'ortugal 
 must presently bring to pass. Already had he divined 
 by his own sagacity the character and necessities of the 
 coming campaign. Massena, as the best representative 
 of the Emperor himself, having under his orders Ney, 
 Regnier, and .Tunot, was gathering his forces on the 
 north-eastern frontier of Portugal to fulfil his ntaster's 
 commands by " sweeping the English leopard into the 
 sea " Against such hosts sis lie brought to the assault 
 a defensive attitude was all that could be maintained, 
 and Welliiigton's eye had detected the true mode of 
 
LINES OF TORRES VEDRAS. 89 
 
 operation. He proposed to make the immediate district 
 of Lisbon perform that service for Portno-nl which Por- 
 tugal itself performed for the Peninsula at large, by 
 furnishing- an impregnable fastness and a secure retreat. 
 Py canying lines of fortification from the Atlantic coast, 
 through Torres Vedras, to the bank of the Tagus a little 
 above Lisbon, he succeeded in constructing an artificial 
 stronghold within which his retiring forces would be 
 inaccessible, and from which, as opportunities invited, 
 he might issue at will. These provisions silently and 
 unobtrusively made, he calmly took post on the Coa, 
 and awaited the assault. Hesitating or undecided, from 
 some motive or other, Massena for weeks delayed the 
 blow, till at length, after feeling the mettle of the Light 
 Division on the Coa, he put his army in motion after 
 the British commander, who slowly retired to his de- 
 fences. Deeming, however, that a passage of arms 
 would tend both to inspirit his own troops in what 
 seemed like a retreat, and to teach Massena the true 
 quality of the antagonist before him, he deliberately 
 halted at Busaco and ofi'ered battle. Unable to refuse 
 the challenge, the French marshal directed his bravest 
 troops against the British position, but they were foiled 
 with immense loss at every point of the attack, and 
 Wellington proved, by one of his most brilliant victo- 
 ries, that his retreat partook neither of discomfiture nor 
 fear. Ivapidly recovering himself, however, Massena 
 followed on his formidable foe, and was dreaming of 
 little less than a second evacuation of Portugal, when, 
 to his astonishment and dismay, he found himself ab- 
 ruptly arrested in his course by the tremendous lines of 
 Torres Vedras. 
 
90 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 These prodigious intrenchments comprised a triple 
 line of fortiiications one within th^ other, the innermost 
 being intended to cover the embarcation of the troops in 
 the last resort. The main strength of the works had 
 been thrown on the^second line, at which it had been 
 intended to make the final stand, but even the outer 
 barrier was found in etfect to be so formidable as to de- 
 ter the enemy from all hopes of a successful assault. 
 Thus checked in mid career, the French mai-shal chafed 
 and fumed in front of these impregnable lines, afraid to 
 attack, yet unwiUing to retire. For a whole month did 
 he lie here inactive, tenacious of his purpose, though 
 aware of his defeat, and eagerly watching for the fii-st 
 advantage which the chances of war or the mistakes of 
 the ] British general might offer him. Meantime, how- 
 ever, while AVellington's concentrated forces were en- 
 joying, through his sage provisions, the utmost comfort 
 and abundance within their lines, the Frencli army was 
 gradually reduced to the last extremities of destitution 
 and disease, and Massena at length broke up in despair, 
 to commence a retreat which was never afterwards ex- 
 changed for an advance. Confident in hope and spirit, 
 and overjoyed to see retiring before them one of those 
 real IinjuM-ial armies which had swept the continent 
 from the Rhine to the Vistula, the British troops issued 
 from their works in hot pui*suit, and, though the extra- 
 ordinary genius of the French commander pi'eserved his 
 forces from what in ordinary cases would have been the 
 ruin of a rout, yet his sufferings were so extreme and 
 his losses so heavy that he carried to the frontier scarce- 
 ly one-half of the force with which he had plunged 
 blindly into Portugal. Following up his wary enemy 
 
IMPHKSSIONK AT IIOMK. 91 
 
 with a caution which no success was permitted to dis- 
 turb, Wellington presently availed himself of his posi- 
 tion to fittempt the reeovery of Almeida, a fortress 
 wliieli, with (Jiudad luxlrigo, forms tlie key of north- 
 eastern Poi'tug-al, and which had been taken by Masse- 
 na in his advance. Anxious to preserve this important 
 place, the French marshal tuined with his whole force 
 upon the foe, but Wellinfvton met him at Fuentes 
 d'Onoro, repulsed his attempts in a sanguinary engage- 
 ment, and Almeida fell. 
 
 As at this point the tide of French conquest had 
 been actually turned, and the British army, so lightly 
 held by Napoleon, was now manifestly chasing his 
 eagles from the field, it might liavo been presumed that 
 popularity and sup]>ort would have rewarded the unex- 
 ampled successes of the English general. Yet it was 
 not so. The reverses experienced during the same pe- 
 riod in Spain were loudly appealed to as neutralizing 
 the triumphs in rortugnl, and at no moment was there 
 a more vehement denunciation of the whole Peninsular 
 war. Though Cadiz resolutely held out, and Graham, 
 indeed, on the heights of Barossa, had emulated the 
 glories of Busaco, yet even tlie strong fortress of l^ada- 
 joz had now fallen before the vigorous audacity of Soult; 
 and Suchet, a rising general of extraordinary abilities, 
 was ellectinj)^ by the reduction of hitherto impregnable 
 stron:^holds the complete conquest of Catalonia and 
 Valencia. Eagei'ly turning these disasters to account, 
 and inspii-ited by the accession of the Prince Regent to 
 power, the 0})position in the British Parliament so op- 
 pressed the Ministry, that at the very moment when 
 Wellington, after his unrivalled strategy, was on the 
 
92 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 track of his retreating foe, he could scarcely count for 
 common support on the Government he was serving. 
 He was represented in England, as his letters show us, 
 to be " in a scrape," and he fought with the conscious- 
 ness that all his reverses would be magnified and all 
 his successes denied. Yet he failed neither in heart 
 nor hand. He had verified all his own assertions re- 
 specting the defeusibility of Portugal. His army had 
 become a perfect model in discipline and daring, he 
 was driving before him 80,000 of the best troops of the 
 Empire, and he relied on the resources of his own ge- 
 nius for compensating those disadvantages to which he 
 foresaw he must be still exposed. Such was the cam- 
 paign of 1810, — better conceived and woi-se appreciated 
 than any which we shall have to record. 
 
 As the maintenance of Portugal was subsidiary to 
 the great object of the war, — the deliverance of tlie 
 Peninsula from French domination, — AVellington of 
 course proceeded, after successfully repulsing the in- 
 vaders from Portuguese soil, to assume the ofiensive, 
 by carrying his arms into Spain. Thus, after defeating 
 Junot, he had been induced to try the battle of Tala- 
 vera ; and now% after expelling Massena, he betook him- 
 self to similar designs, with this difi'erence — that in- 
 stead of operating by the valley of the Tagus against 
 Madrid, he now moved to the valley of the Guadiana for 
 the purpose of recovering Badajoz, a fortress, like that of 
 Ciudad Rodrigo, so critically situated on the frontier, 
 that with these two places in the enemy's hands, as 
 they now were, it became hazardous either to quit Por- 
 tugal or to penetrate into Spain. At this point, there- 
 fore, were now to commence the famous sieges of the 
 
COMPARISON OF FORCES. 93 
 
 Peninsula — sieges which will always reflect immortal 
 honor on the troops engaged, and which will always 
 attract the interest of the English reader ; but which 
 must, nevertheless, be appealed to as illustrations of the 
 straits to which an army may be led by want of mili- 
 tary experience in the Government at home. By this 
 time the repeated victories of Wellington and his col- 
 leagues had raised the renown of British soldiers to at 
 least an equality with that of Napoleon's veterans, and 
 the incomparable efficiency, in particular, of the light 
 division was acknowledged to be without a parallel in 
 any European service. But in those departments of the 
 army where excellence is less the result of intuitive 
 ability, the forces under Wellington were still greatly 
 surpassed by the trained legions of the Emperor. 
 While Napoleon had devoted his whole genius to the 
 organization of the parks and trains which attend the 
 march of an army in the field, the British troops had 
 only the most imperfect resources on which to rely. 
 The Engineer corps, though admirable in quality, was 
 so deficient in numbers that commissions were placed 
 at the free disposal of Cambridge mathematicians. 
 The siege trains were weak and worthless against the 
 solid ramparts of Peninsula strongholds, the intrench- 
 ing tools were so ill made that they snapped in the 
 hands of the workmen, and the art of sapping and 
 mining was so little known that this branch of the 
 siege duties was carried on by draughts from regiments 
 of the line, imperfectly and hastily instructed for the 
 purpose. Unhappily, these results can only be ob- 
 viated by long foresight, patient training, and costly 
 provision ; it was not in the power of a single mind, 
 
94 THE DUKK OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 however capacious, to effect an instantaneous reform, 
 and Wellington was compelled to supply the deficien- 
 cies by the best blood of his troops. 
 
 The command of the force commissioned to recover 
 Badnjoz hi\d been intrusted to Marshal Beresford until 
 Lord Wellington could repair in person to the ?cene, 
 and it was against Soult, who was marching rapidly 
 from the South to the relief of the place, that the glori- 
 ous but sanguinary battle of Albuera was fought on 
 the lOth of May. Having chocked the enemy by this 
 bloody defeat Beresford resumed his duties of the siege 
 until he was supei*seded by the Commander-in-Chief. 
 But all the efforts of Wellington and his troops were 
 vain, for the present, against this celebrated fortress ; 
 two assaults were repulsed, and the British general de- 
 ternu'ned on relinquishing the attempt, and returning to 
 the northern frontier of Portugal for more favourable 
 opportunities of action. He had now by his extraordi- 
 nary genius so far changed the character of the war, 
 that the British, heretofore fighting with desperate te- 
 nacity for a footing at Lisbon or Cadiz, were now open- 
 ly assuming the offensive, and Napoleon had been actu- 
 ally compelled to direct defensive pre}>arations along 
 the road leading tlirough Vittoria to Bayonne — that 
 very road which Wellington in spite of these defences 
 wjis soon to traverse in triumph. Meantime fresh troops 
 were pouring over the Pyrenees into Spain, and a new 
 plan of operations was dictated by the Emperor himself. 
 One powerful army in the north was to guard Castile 
 and Leon, and watch the road by which Wellington 
 might be expected to advance ; another, under Soult, 
 strongly reinforced, was to maintain French iuteiests in 
 
CONDITIONS OF THE WAR. 95 
 
 Andalusia and menace Portugal from the south ; while 
 Marinont, who had succeeded Massena, took post with 
 30,000 men in the valley of the Tagns, resting on Tole- 
 do and Madrid, and prepared to concert movements 
 with either of his colleagues as occasion might arise. 
 To encounter these antagonists, who could rai)id!y con- 
 centrate 90,000 splendid troops against him, Welling- 
 ton could barely bring 50,000 into the held ; and though 
 this disparity of numbers was afterwards somewhat les- 
 sened, yet it is scarcely in reason to expect that even 
 the genius of Wellington or the valour of his troops 
 could have ultimately prevailed against such odds but 
 for circumstances which favoured the designs of the 
 British and rendered the contest less unequal. In the 
 first place, the jealousies of the French marshals, wdien 
 unrepressed by the Empei-or's presence, were so inveter- 
 ate as to disconcert the best operations, being sometimes 
 little less suicidal than those of the Trinces of India. 
 Next, although the Spanish armies had ceased to ofter 
 regular resistance to the invaders, yet the guerilla sys- 
 tem of warfare, aided by interminable insurrections, act- 
 ed to the incessant embairassment of the French, whose 
 duties, perils, and fatigues were doubled by the restless 
 activity of these daring enemies. But the most import- 
 ant of Wellington's advantages was that of position. 
 With an impregnable retreat at Lisbon, with free water 
 carriage in his rear, and with the great arteries of the 
 Douro and the Tagus for conducting his supplies, he 
 could operate at will from his central fastness towards 
 the north, east, or south. If the northern provinces 
 were temporarily disengaged from the enemy's presence, 
 lie could issue by Almeida and Salamanca upon the 
 
96 TJIK DUKK OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 {vroat line of commiinicition botwcfMi the Tyrenees and 
 Madrid; if the valley of the Tagus were left unrjnarded, 
 lie could march directly upon the capital by the well- 
 known route of Talavera ; while if Soult, by any of these 
 donionsl rations, was tempted to cross the Ouadiana, he 
 could carry his arms into Andalusia by Elvas and Ixi- 
 dajoz. Relying, too, on the excellence of his troops, ho 
 confidently accounted himself a match for any single 
 army of the enemy, while he was well aware, from the 
 exhausted state of the country and the diflicultios of 
 procuring subsistence no concentration of the l^^ench 
 forces could be maintained for many days together. In 
 this way, availing himself of the far superior intelHgonco 
 which he enjoyctl through the agency of the guerillas, 
 and of his own exclusive facilities for commanding sup- 
 plies, he succeeded in paralysing the enormous hosts of 
 Napoleon, by constant alarms and well-directed blows, 
 till at length when the time of action came he advanced 
 from cantonments and drove King Joseph and all his 
 mai-shals headlong across the Pyrenees. 
 
 The position taken up by Wellington when he trans- 
 ferred his operations from the south to the north fron- 
 tier of Tortugal was at Fuente (Juinaldo, a locality 
 possessing some advantageous features in the neigbour- 
 IukhI of Oiudad Kodrigo. His thoughts being still oc- 
 cupied by the means of gaining the border fortresses, 
 he had promptly turned to Kodrigo from Padajoz, and 
 liad arranged his plans with a double prospect of suc- 
 cess. Knowing that the j^lace was inadeipuitely pro- 
 visioned he cont'oivi>d hopes of blockading it into sulv- 
 missiou tVom his post at Kuente (Juinaldo, since in the 
 presence o{' this force no supplies ould be thrown into 
 
SIEGE OF CIUDAD llODRIOO. 9Y 
 
 the town unless escorted by a convoy equal to the army 
 under liis command. Kitlicr, tlicrcforo, the French mar- 
 shal must abandon Kodiigo to its fate, or ho must go 
 through the difficult operation of concentrating all his 
 foj-ces to form the convoy required. Marmont chose 
 the latter alternative, and uniting his army with that of 
 ])orsGnnc advanced to the relief of Rodrigo with an 
 immense train of stores and 00,000 lighting men. By 
 this extraordinary effort not only was the jilaco pro- 
 visioned, but Wellington himself was brought into a 
 situation of some }>cril, for after successfully repulsing 
 an attempt of the French in the memorable combat of 
 El Bodon he found himself the next day, with only 
 15,000 men actually at his disposal, exposed to the at- 
 tack of the entire French army. Fortunately Marmont 
 was unaware of the chance thus offered him, and while 
 he was occupying himself in evolutions and displays, 
 Wellington collected his troops and stood once more 
 in security on his position. This movement, however, of 
 the French commander destroyed all hopes of reducing 
 Rodrigo by blockade, and the British general recurred 
 accordingly to the alternative he had been contemplat- 
 ing of an assault by force. 
 
 To comprehend the ditHculties of this enterprise, it 
 must be remembered that the superiority of strength 
 was indisputably with the French whenever they con- 
 centrated their forces, and that it was certain such con- 
 centration would be attempted, at any risk, to save such 
 a place as Rodrigo. Wellington, therefore, had to prepare, 
 with such secrecy as to elude the suspicions of his 
 enemy, the enormous mass of materials required for 
 such a siege as that he projected. As the town stood 
 5 
 
98 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 on the opposite or Spanish bank of the river Agueda, 
 and as the approaches were commanded by the guns of 
 the garrison, it became necessary to construct a tem- 
 porary bridge. Moreover, the heavy battering train, 
 which alone required 5000 bullocks to draw it, had to be 
 brought up secretly to the spot, though it was a work 
 almost of impossibility to get a score of cattle together. 
 But these difficulties were surmounted by the inventive 
 genius of the British commander. Preparing his bat- 
 tering train at Lisbon, he shipped it at that port as if 
 for Cadiz, transhipped it into smaller craft at sea, and 
 then brought it up the stream of the Douro. In the 
 next place, lie succeeded, beyond the hopes of his en- 
 gineers, in rendering the Douro navigable for a space of 
 40 miles beyond the limit previously presumed, and at 
 length he collected the whole necessary materials in the 
 rear of his array without any knowledge on the part of 
 his antagonist. He was now to reap the reward of his 
 precaution and skill. Towards the close of the year 
 the French armies having — conformably to directions 
 of the Emperor, framed entirely on the supposition that 
 Wellington had no heavy artillery — been dispersed in 
 cantonments, the Bi-istish general suddenly threw his 
 bridge across the Agueda, and besieged Ciudad Rodrigo 
 in force. Ten days only elapsed between the invest- 
 ment and the storm. On the 8th of January, 1812, 
 the Agueda was crossed, and on the 19th the British 
 were in the city. The loss of life greatly exceeded the 
 limit assigned to snch expenditure in the scientific cal- 
 culations of military engineers ; but the enterprise was 
 undertaken in the face of a superior force, which could 
 at once have defeated it by appearing on the scene of 
 
FALL OF BADAJOZ. 99 
 
 action ; and so eftectually was Marmont baffled by the 
 vigour of the British that the phice had fallen before his 
 army was collected for its relief. The repetition of such 
 a stroke at Badajoz, which was now Wellington's aim, 
 presented still greater difficulties, for the vigilance of 
 the French was alarmed, the garrison of the place had 
 been reconstituted by equal draughts from the various 
 armies in order to interest each marshal personally in 
 its relief^ and Soult in Andalusia, like Marmont in Cas- 
 tile, possessed a force competent to overwhelm any 
 covering army which Wellington could detach. Yet 
 on the 7th of April Badajoz likewise fell, and after 
 opening a new campaign with these famous demonstra- 
 tions of his own sagacity and the courage of his troops, 
 he prepared for a third time to advance definitely from 
 Portugal into Spain. 
 
 Though the forces of Napoleon in the Peninsula 
 were presently to be somewhat weakened by the re- 
 quirements of the Russian war, yet at the moment 
 when these strongholds were wrenched from their 
 grasp the ascendency of the Emperor was yet uncon- 
 tested, and from the Niemen to the Atlantic there was 
 hterally no resistance to his universal dominion save by 
 this army, which was clinging with invincible tenacity 
 to the rocks of Portugal, at the western extremity of 
 Europe. From these well defended lines, however, 
 they were now to emerge, and while Hill, by his sur- 
 prise of Gerard at Arroyo Molinos and his brilliant 
 capture of the forts at the bridge of Almaraz, was 
 alarming the French for the safety of Andalusia, Wel- 
 lington began his march to the Pyrenees. On this oc- 
 casion he was at first unimpeded. So established was 
 
100 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 the reputation of the troops and their general that 
 Marmont retired as he advanced, and Salamanca, after 
 four years of oppressive occupation, was evacuated 
 before the liberating army. But the hosts into which 
 Wellington had thus boldly plunged with 40,000 
 troops still numbered fully 270,000 soldiers, and 
 though these forces were divided by distance and 
 jealousies, Marmont had no difficulty in collecting an 
 army numerically superior to that of his antagonist. 
 Returning, therefore, to the contest, and hovering 
 about the English general for the opportunity of pouncing 
 at an advantage upon his troops, he gave promise of a 
 decisive battle, and, after some days of elaborate ma- 
 noeuvring, the opposing armies found themselves con- 
 fronted, on the 2 2d of July, in the vicinity of Sala- 
 manca. It was a trial of strategy, but in strategy as 
 well as vigour the French marshal was surpassed by 
 his redoubtable adversary. Seizing with intuitive 
 genius an occasion which Marmont offered, Wellington 
 fell upon his army and routed it so completely that 
 half of its effective force was destroyed in the engage- 
 ment. So decisively had the blow been dealt, and so 
 skilfully had it been directed, that, as Napoleon had 
 long foretold of such an event, it paralysed the entire 
 French force in Spain, and reduced it to the relative 
 position so long maintained by the English — that of 
 tenacious defence. The only two considerable armies 
 now remaining were those of Suchet in the east, and 
 Soult in the south. Suchet, on hearing of Marmont's 
 defeat, proposed that the French should make a Portu- 
 gal of their own in Catalonia, and defend themselves in 
 its fastnesses till aid could arrive from the Pyrenees ; 
 
IN POSSESSION OF THE CAPITAL. 101 
 
 while Soult advocated with equal warmth a retirement 
 into Andalusia and a concentration behind the Guadi- 
 ana. There was little time for deliberation, for Wel- 
 lington was hot upon his prey, but as King Joseph de- 
 camped from his capital he sent orders to Soult to 
 evacuate Andalusia ; and the victorious army of the 
 British, after thus, by a single blow, clearing half 
 Spain of its invaders, made its triumphant entry into 
 Madrid. 
 
 Wellington was now in possession of the capital of 
 Spain. He had succeeded in delivering that blow 
 which had so long been meditated, and had signalized 
 the growing ascendency of his army by the total defeat 
 of his chief opponent in open field. But his work was 
 far from finished, and while all around was rejoicing 
 and triumph, his forecast was anxiously revolving the 
 imminent contingencies of the war. In one sense, in- 
 deed, the recent victory had increased rather than les- 
 sened the dangers of his position, for it had driven his 
 adversaries by force of common peril into a temporary 
 concert, and Wellington well knew that any such con- 
 cert would reduce him again to the defensive. Mar- 
 shal Soult, it was true, had evacuated Andalusia, and 
 King Joseph Madrid ; but their forces had been carried 
 to Suchet's quarters in Valencia, where they would 
 thus form an overpowering concentration of strength ; 
 and in like manner, though Marmont's army had been 
 shorn of half its numbers, it was rapidly recovering it- 
 self under Clauzel by the absorption of all the detach- 
 ments which had been operating in the north. Wel- 
 lington saw, therefore, that he must prepare himself for 
 a still more decisive struggle, if not for another retreat ; 
 
102 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 and conceiving it most important to disembarrass his 
 rear, he turned round upon Clauzel with the intention 
 of crushing him before he could be fully reinforced, 
 and thus establishing himself securely on the line of the 
 Douro to await the advance of King Joseph from the 
 east. 
 
 With these views, after leaving a strong garrison at 
 Madrid, he put his army in motion, drove Clauzel be- 
 fore him from Valladolid, and on the 18th of September 
 appeared before Burgos. This place, though not a 
 fortification of the first rank, had been recently 
 strengthened by the orders of Napoleon, whose sagacity 
 had divined the use to which its defences might possi- 
 bly be turned. It lay in the great road to Bayonne, 
 and was now one of the chief depots retained by the 
 French in the Peninsula, for the campaign had stripped 
 them of Rodrigo, Badajoz, Madrid, Salamanca, and 
 Seville. It became, therefore, of great importance to 
 effect its reduction, and Wellington sat down before it 
 with a force which, although theoretically unequal to 
 the work, might, perhaps, from past recollections, have 
 warranted some expectations of success. But our Pe- 
 ninsular sieges supply, as we have said, rather warnings 
 than examples. Badajoz and Rodrigo were only won 
 by a profuse expenditure of life, and Burgos, though 
 attacked with equal intrepidity, was not won at all. 
 After consuming no less than five weeks before its walls 
 Wellington gave reluctant orders for raising the siege 
 and retiring. It was, indeed, ticfte, for the Northern 
 army, now under the command of Souham, mustered 
 44,000 men in his rear, and Soult and Joseph were ad- 
 vancing with fully 70,000 more upon the Tagus. To 
 
ACHIEVEMENT OF THE FRENCH. 103 
 
 oppose these forces Wellington had only 33,000 troops, 
 Spaniards included, under his immediate command, 
 while Hill, with the garrison of Madrid, could only 
 muster some 20,000 to resist the advances of Soult. 
 The British commander determined, therefore, on re- 
 calling Hill from Madrid and resuming his former po- 
 sition on the Agueda — a resolution which he success- 
 fully executed in the face of the difficulties around 
 him, though the suftering and discouragement of the 
 troops during this unwelcome retreat were extremely 
 severe. A detailed criticism of these operations would 
 be beyond our province. It is enough to say that the 
 French made a successful defence, and we have no oc- 
 casion to begrudge them the single achievement against 
 the English arms which could be contributed to the 
 historic gallery of Versailles by the whole Peninsular 
 War. 
 
 Such, however, was in those times the incredulity or 
 perverseness of party spirit in England that, while no 
 successes were rated at their true import, every incom- 
 plete operation was magnified into a disaster, and des- 
 cribed as a warning. The retreat from Burgos was 
 cited, like the retreat from Talavera, as a proof of the 
 mismanagement of the war ; and occasion was taken in 
 Parliament to compare even the victory of Salamanca 
 with the battles of Marlborough, to the disparagement of 
 Wellington and his army. Nor did any great enlight- 
 enment yet prevail on the subject of military operations; 
 for a considerable force, destined to act on the eastern 
 coast of Spain, was diverted by Lord William Bentinck 
 to Sicily at a moment when its appearance in Valencia 
 would have disconcerted all the plans of the French, 
 
104 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 and, by providing occupation for Josepli and his mar- 
 shals, have relieved Wellington from that concentration 
 of his enemies before which he was compelled to retire. 
 But neither the wilfulness of faction nor the tenacity of 
 folly could do more than obstruct events which were 
 now steadily in course. Even the inherent obstinacy 
 of Spanish character had at length yielded to the visi- 
 ble genius of Wellington, and the wdiole military force 
 of the country was now at length, in the fifth year of 
 the war, placed under his paramount command. But 
 these powers were little more than nominal ; and, in or- 
 der to derive an effective support from the favourable 
 disposition of the Spanish Government, the British gen- 
 eral availed himself of the winter season to repair in 
 person to Cadiz. 
 
 It will be remembered that when, after the battle 
 of Talavera and the retirement of Wellington to Por- 
 tugal, the French poured their accumulated legions 
 into Andalusia, Cadiz alone had been preserved from 
 the deluge. Since that time the troops of Soult had en- 
 vironed it in vain. Secured by a British garrison, 
 strongly fortified by nature, and well supplied from the 
 sea, it was in little danger of capture ; and it discharg- 
 ed, indeed, a substantial service, by detaining a large 
 detachment from the general operations of the war. 
 In fact, the French could scarcely be described as 
 besieging it; for, though they maintained their guard 
 with imceasing vigilance, it was at so respectful a 
 distance, that the great mortar which now stands 
 in St. James's Park w^as cast especially for this extra- 
 ordinary length of range ; and their own position was 
 entrenched with an anxiety sufliciently indicative of 
 
CAMPAIGN OF 1813. 105 
 
 tlicir anticipations. Exempted in this manner from 
 many of the troubles of war wliile cooped in the nar- 
 row space of a single town, the Spanish patn-iotfi enjoy- 
 ed ample Hberty of political discussion, and the fermen- 
 tation of spirits was proportionate to the occasion. It 
 was here that the affairs of the war, as regarded the 
 Spanish armies, were regulated by a popular assembly 
 under the control of a licentious mob ; and it was here 
 tliat those democratic principles of government were 
 first proiiuilgated which in later times so intimately 
 affected the fortunes of the Peninsular monarchies. 
 "The Cortes," wrote Wellington, "have framed a Con- 
 stitution very much on the principle that a painter 
 paints a picture — viz., to be looked at. I have not 
 met any person of any description who considers that 
 Spain either is or can be governed by such a system." 
 From this body, however, the British commander suc- 
 ceeded in temporarily obtaining the power he desired, 
 and ho returned to Portugal prepared to open, with 
 invigorated spirit and confidence, the campaign of 
 1813. 
 
 Several circumstances now combined to promise a 
 decisive turn in the operations of the war. The initi- 
 ative, once taken by Wellington, had been never lost, 
 and although he had retrograded from l^urgos, it was 
 without any discomfiture at the hands of the enemy. 
 The reinforcements despatched from England, though 
 proportioned neither to the needs of the war nor the 
 resources of the country, were considerable, and the ef- 
 fective strength of the army — a term which excludes 
 the Spanish contingents — reachei^ tr* full 70,000 men. 
 On the other hand, the reverses r^ y^poleon in the 
 5* 
 
106 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Russian campaign had not only reduced his forces in 
 the Peninsula, but had rendered it improbable that 
 they could be succoured on any emergency with the 
 same promptitude as before. Above all, Wellington 
 himself was now unfettered in his command ; for if the 
 direction in chief of the Spanish armies brought but 
 little direct accession of strength, it at any rate relieved 
 him from the necessity of concerting operations with 
 generals on whose discretion he had found it impossible 
 to rely. These considerations, coupled with an instinc- 
 tive confidence in his dispositions for the campaign, and 
 an irresisti.ble presage of the succcoo . hich at length 
 awaited his patience, so inspired theBri.ish commander 
 that, in putting his troops once more in motion for 
 Spain, he rose in his stirrups as the frontier was passed, 
 and waving his hat, exclaimed prophetically, " Farewell, 
 Portugal !" Events soon verified the finality of this 
 adieu, for a few short months carried the "Sepoy Gene- 
 ral" in triumph to Paris. 
 
 At the commencement of the famous campaign of 
 1813, the material superiority still lay apparently with 
 the French, for King Joseph disposed of a force little 
 short of 200,000 men — a strength exceeding that of 
 the army under Wellington's command — even if all 
 denominations of troops are included in the calcu- 
 lation. But the British general reasonably concluded 
 that he had by this time experienced the worst of what 
 the enemy could do. He knew that the difficulties of 
 subsistence, no less than the jealousies of the several 
 commanders, would render any large or permanent 
 concentration impossible, and he had satisfactorily mea- 
 sured the power of his own army against any likely to 
 
VITTORIA. 107 
 
 be brought into the field against him. He confidently 
 calculated, therefore, on making an end of the war ; 
 his troops were in the highest spirits, and the lessons 
 of the retreat from Burgos had been turned to seasonable 
 advantage. In comparison with his previous restric- 
 tions all might now be said to be in his own hands, 
 and the result of the change was soon made conclu- 
 sively manifest. 
 
 Hitherto, as we have seen, the offensive movements 
 of Wellington from his Portuguese stronghold had 
 been usually directed against Madrid, by one of the 
 two great roads of Salamanca or Talavera, and the 
 French had been studiously led to anticipate similar 
 dispositions on the present occasion. Under such im- 
 pressions they collected their main strength on the 
 north bank of the Douro, to defend that river to the 
 last, intending, as Wellington moved upon Salamanca, 
 to fall on his left flank by the bridges of Toro and 
 Zamora. The British general, however, had conceived 
 a. very different plan of operations. Availing himself 
 of preparations carefully made, and information anx- 
 iously collected, he moved the left wing of his army 
 through a province hitherto untravei-sed to the north 
 bank of the Douro, and then, after demonstrations at 
 Salamanca, suddenly joining it with the remainder of 
 the army, he took the French defences in reverse, and 
 showed himself in in-esistible force on the line of their 
 communications. The effect was decisive. Constantly 
 menaced by the British left, which was kept steadily in 
 advance, Joseph evacuated one position after another 
 without hazarding an engagement, blew up the castle 
 of Burgos in the precipitancy of his retreat, and only 
 
108 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 took post at ViTTORiA to experience the most conclu- 
 sive defeat ever sustained by the French arms since 
 the battle of Blenheim. His entire army was routed, 
 with inconsiderable slaughter, but with irrecoverable 
 discomfiture. All the plunder of the Peninsula fell 
 into the hands of the victors. Jourdan's hdtmi, and 
 Joseph's travelling carriage became the trophies of the 
 British general, and the walls of Apsley-house display 
 to this hour in their most precious ornaments the spoils 
 of this memorable battle. The occasion was improved 
 as skilfully as it had been created. Pressing on his 
 retiring foe, Wellington drove him into the recesses of 
 the Pyrenees, and surrounding the frontier fortresses of 
 St. Sebastian and Pampeluna, prepared to maintain the 
 mountain passes against a renewed invasion. His an- 
 ticipations of the future proved correct. Detaching 
 what force he could spare from his own emergencies, 
 Napoleon sent Soult again with plenary powers to re- 
 trieve the credit and fortunes of the army. Impressed 
 with the peril of the crisis, and not disguising the abi- 
 lities of the commander opposed to him, this able 
 "Lieutenant of the Emperor" collected his whole 
 strength, and suddenly poured with impetuous valor 
 through the passes of the Pyrenees, on the isolated 
 posts of his antagonibL. But at Maya and Sorauven 
 the French were once more repulsed by the vigorous 
 determination of the British ; St. Sebastian, after a 
 sanguinaiy siege, was carried by storm, and on the 
 9th of November, four months after the battle of Vitto- 
 ria, Wellington slept, for the last time during the war, 
 on the territory of the Peninsula. The Bidassoa and 
 the Nivelle were successfully crossed in despite of all 
 
END OF THE PENINSULA WAR. 109 
 
 the resistance which Soult could oppose, and the Bri- 
 tish army, which five years before, amid the menacing 
 hosts of the. enemy and the ill-boding omens of its 
 friends, had maintained a precarious footing on the 
 crags of Portugal, now bivouacked in uncontested tri- 
 umph on the soil of France. With these strokes the 
 mighty game had at length been won, for though 
 Soult clung with convulsive tenacity to every defensible 
 point of ground, and though at Toulouse he drew 
 such vigour from despair as suggested an equivocal 
 claim to the honours of the combat, yet the result of 
 the struggle was now beyond the reach of fortune. 
 Not only was Wellington advancing in irresistible 
 strength, but Napoleon himself had succumbed to his 
 more immediate antagonists ; and the French mar- 
 shals, discovering themselves without authority or sup- 
 port, desisted from hostilities which had become both 
 gratuitous and hopeless. 
 
 Thus terminated, with unexampled glory to Eng- 
 land and its army, the great Peninsular War — a strug- 
 gle commenced with ambiguous views and prosecuted 
 with doubtful expectations, but carried to a triumphant 
 conclusion by the extraordinary genius of a single man. 
 We are not imputing any prodigies of heroism to the 
 conquerors or their chief. N«<jye knew better than he 
 who is now gone that war was no matter of romance, 
 but a process obeying in its course the self-same rules 
 which humanly determine the success of all national 
 undertakings. It is undoubtedly true, as we have been 
 describing, that Wellington, with a heterogeneous force 
 rarely exceeding 50,000 eftective troops, and frequently 
 far below even this disproportionate amount, did first 
 
110 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 repel, then attack, and ultimately vanquish, a host of 
 foes comprisino- from 200,000 to 350,000 of the finest 
 soldiers of the French Empire, led by its most renowned 
 commanders ; and such a feat of arms does, indeed, ap- 
 pear 'to savour of the heroic or supernatural. But the 
 game was always in reality on the cards. The mighty 
 armies of the French were not practically available for 
 a concentrated effort. The jealousies of the several 
 marshals, and the caprices of their nominal Sovereign, 
 precluded any systematic co-operation between them, 
 and the necessities of subsistence in a rude and hostile 
 country effectually prevented the assemblage for any 
 lengthened period of a larger force than the British 
 commander had proved his ability to encounter. The 
 campaigns of Talavera and Salamanca showed Welling- 
 ton that his army was not likely, under proper precau- 
 tions, to be overmatched in the field ; experience soon 
 taught him the limit of reinforcements from France. 
 In the next place, the embarrassments and responsibili- 
 ties of the French were greatly augmented by their 
 own system of tactics and by the determined enmity of 
 the Spaniards. Relying, according to Napoleon's prin- 
 ciple, for the support of the war on tlie war itself, they 
 were compelled to alienate the people of the country by 
 ruthless plunder, and to make a fortified post of every 
 depot and magazine. As the guerilla practice gathered 
 strength their communications were intercepted in every 
 direction, and they commanded not an inch of territory 
 beyond their immediate quarters. If they quitted a 
 province, they lost it ; if they evacuated a post for a 
 moment, it was seized by enemies who were powerless 
 against them in open field, but who hung with invinci- 
 
Wellington's achievements. Ill 
 
 ble hostility on their flanks and rear. On the othei 
 hand, WelHngton commanded a compact army in a 
 central position, from which he could operate in any 
 direction at pleasure. Having conclusively proved, 
 against even the tenacity and genius of Massena, that 
 his own post was impregnable, he could strike at will 
 to the right or the left ; he could menace Soult in An- 
 dalusia, or Clauzel in Gallicia, or alarm King Joseph 
 for his throne by marching upon Madrid. He was in- 
 dependent of the necessities which so crippled his an- 
 tagonists. The sea was his own, and every port be- 
 tween Lisbon and Santander could be turned into a 
 base of operations and an unftiiling source of supplies. 
 He knew that at the worst he could hold Portugal 
 against all the might of France, and that there lay obe- 
 dient to his baton an army competent to seize and im- 
 prove every opportunity which time might bring— 
 opportunities which could hardly be lacking under a 
 system so hollow and unsubstantial as that on which 
 Napoleon's power was reared. These are the condi- 
 tions, explanatory in some degree of the result of the 
 war ; but they are in no wise disparaging to those ex- 
 traordinary talents which conducted it to its conclusion. 
 But for Wellington these chances would have been 
 wholly unimproved and lost. It is his transcendent 
 merit that he descried these promising circumstances 
 when they were hidden from most and denied by all. 
 He first detected the capabilities of Portugal as a de- 
 fensive position ; he first indicated the weak points of 
 his antagonists ; he first inspired confidence in his sol- 
 diers. To realize the favourable chances of the war, it 
 was required that no act of imprudence should compro- 
 
112 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 mise the safety of that army on which all depended ; 
 that no means should be spared to maintain its effi- 
 ciency and to create a subsidiary force in the levies of 
 the country ; that temptations should be resisted, oblo- 
 quy disregarded, and provocations passed by. All this 
 Wellington did, and did, too, not only without support, 
 but in despite of discouragement. He never could per- 
 suade his countrymen of their real duties or prospects. 
 They were extravagantly elated at his first success, and 
 ^ proportionately desponding afterwards. lie could never 
 teach them to look into the future or to believe in the 
 value of a victory which fell short of a conquest. For 
 a long time it may be said that he conducted the war 
 on his own responsibility alone ; for the Ministry, even 
 when favourably disposed, were unable to send him 
 adequate succours, and there was an Opposition ever 
 ready to prophesy and denounce calamities which they 
 were doing their best to occasion. On the spot, too, 
 he was calumniated and thwarted in every possible way 
 by the very people whose cause he was sustaining. 
 The Spanish Generals encumbered his movements, 
 while the Spanish Government, under the dictation of 
 the populace of Cadiz, violated every engagement with 
 him as soon as it was made. Yet, under all these cir- 
 cumstances, he persevered. He alone, at an early 
 period, detected the essential unsoundness of the French 
 power, and reiterated his assurances of eventual success. 
 He argued with his own Government, temporized with 
 his Spanish colleagues, and even convinced the patriot 
 mob. By incessant exertions and extraordinary skill 
 he raised a body of militiamen and recruits into an 
 army unparalleled for its excellence, and by a succession 
 
THOUGHTS ON THE WAR. 113 
 
 of victories he at length taught his discontented coun- 
 trymen to know their own miHtary capacities and to 
 believe in the fortune of their arms. It was this gra- 
 dual creation of means and power which communicated 
 so distinctive a character to the war. Sir Arthur Wel- 
 lesley originally sailed with a handful of troops on an 
 " expedition " to Portugal. lie returned the commander 
 of such a British army as had never before been seen, 
 and the conqueror in such a war as had never before 
 been maintained. Single-handed, England had encoun- 
 tered and defeated those redoubtable legions of France 
 before which Continental Europe had hitherto suc- 
 cumbed. She had become a principal in the great Eu- 
 ropean struggle, and, by the talents and fortune of her 
 great commander, had entitled herself to no second 
 place in the councils of the world. It is as well, per- 
 haps, that our subject demands no special notice of that 
 invincible army by which these feats were wrought. 
 When the war was summarily concluded by the ruin 
 of one of the belligerents, it had penetrated the French 
 territory as ftir as Bordeaux. There it was broken up. 
 Of its famous regiments, some were carried across the 
 Atlantic to be launched heedlessly against the redoubts 
 of New Orleans, some shipped off to perish in the rice 
 swamps of Antigua, and some retained to participate 
 in one more battle for victory. But from this point 
 its renown lives in history alone ; its merits never met 
 • the recognition which was their due, and our own 
 generation has witnessed the tardy acknowledgment, 
 by a piece of riband and a medal, of deeds which forty 
 years before proved the salvation of Europe and the 
 immortal glory of Britain. 
 
114 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 During the memorable events which we have beer, 
 describing, the character and position of WelHngton had 
 risen to a signal pitch of reputation and esteem. A 
 successful soldier and a popular commander he had 
 been accounted from the beginning, but he was now 
 recognized as something infinitely more. By degrees 
 the Spanish war had become a conspicuous element in 
 the mighty European struggle ; and it was the only war, 
 indeed, in which an ascendant was permanently main- 
 tained over the star of Napoleon. All eyes were there- 
 fore turned upon the General enjoying such an exclu- 
 sive privilege of genius or fortune. Nor were his merits 
 limited to the field of battle alone. He was the visible 
 adviser of Spanish and Portuguese statesmen, and 
 whatever administrative successes awaited their eftbrts 
 were due to no counsels but his. His clear vision and 
 steady judgment disentangled all the intricacies oi 
 democratic intrigues or courtly corruption, and detected 
 at once the path of wisdom and policy. It was impos- 
 sible, too, that his views should be confined to the 
 Peninsula. In those days all politics wore a cosmopo- 
 litan character. There was but one great question be- 
 fore the eyes of the world — European freedom or Eu- 
 ropean servitude, — the " French Empire" on one side 
 and a coalition of adversaries or victims on the other. 
 Wellington's eye was cast over the plains of Germany, 
 over the wilds of Russia, on the shores of the Baltic, 
 nnd the islands of the Mediterranean. His sagacity 
 estimated every combination at its true import, and 
 measured the efiects of every expedition, while his vie-- 
 tories served to check despondency, or animate resistance 
 in countries far removed from the scene of his opera- 
 
HIS POSITION. 115 
 
 tions. The battle of Salamanca was celebrated by the 
 retiring Russians with rejoicings which fell ominously 
 on the ears of their pursuers, and the triumph of Vitto- 
 ria determined the wavering policy of Austria against 
 the tottering fortunes of Napoleon. These circum- 
 stances lent a weight to the words of Wellington such 
 as had rarely been before experienced either by states- 
 man or soldier. On all points relating to the one great 
 problem of the day, his opinion was anxiously asked 
 and respectfully received — and not by his own Govern- 
 ment alone, but by all Cabinets concerned in the pro- 
 secution of the pending struggle. When, therefore, the 
 dissolution of Napoleon's empire compelled a new orga- 
 nization of France, the Duke of Wellington was 
 promptly despatched to Paris, as the person most com- 
 petent to advise and instruct the new Administration — 
 four days only elapsing between his departure from the 
 head of the army and his appearance as British Am- 
 bassador at the Tuileries. Within a week, again, of 
 this time he was precipitately recalled to Madrid, as the 
 only individual who, by his experience, knowledge, and 
 influence, could compose the differences between the 
 Spanish people and their malicious Sovereign ; a!hd be- 
 fore six months had passed, he was on his way to 
 Vienna as the representative of his country in the great 
 congress of nations which was to determine the settle- 
 ment of the world. These practical testimonies to his 
 renown throw wholly into the shade those incidental 
 honours and decorations by which national acknowledg- 
 ments are conveyed, and it is almost superfluous to 
 add, that all the titles and distinctions at the command 
 of Crowns and Cabinets were showered upon the libera- 
 
116 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 tor of the Peninsula and the conqueror of Napoleon. 
 Talavera had made him a baron and a viscount ; Ciudad 
 Rodrigo an earl, Salamanca a mai-quis, and Yittoria a 
 duke ; and, as these honors had all accumulated in his 
 absence, his successive patents were read together in a 
 single day, as he took his seat for the first time, and 
 with the highest rank, among the peers of England. 
 
 But his military services were not yet quite conclud- 
 ed — they were to termijiate in a more brilliant though 
 not more substantial triumph than had been won on 
 the fields of Spain. While the allied Sovereigns were 
 wrangling over the trophies of their success, their terri- 
 ble antagonist re-appeared once more. Napoleon was 
 again in Paris, and, aided by the devotion of his ad- 
 herents, the military capacities of the nation, and the 
 numbers of veteran soldiers who at the peace had 
 been releasied from imprisonment, he speedily advanced 
 at the head of an army as formidable as that of Aus- 
 terlitz or Friedland. At the first rumours of war the 
 contino-ent of Eno-land had been intrusted to Welling- 
 ton, who occupied in Belgium the post of honour and 
 peril. Of all the mighty reinforcements announced 
 none but a Prussian corps was at hand, when, without 
 warning given, the French Emperor fell headlong on 
 his enemies at Ligny and Quatre Bras. The Duke had 
 sketched out a scheme of hostilities with his usual de- 
 cision, and was prepared to take the field with his usual 
 confidence, but the loss of that army which " could go 
 any where and do any thing" was now grievously felt. 
 The ti-oops of Napoleon were the very finest of the Em- 
 pire — the true representatives of the Grand Army ; but 
 Wellington's motley force comprised only 33,000 Brit- 
 
WATERLOO. 117 
 
 ish, and of these only a portion was contributed by the 
 redoubtable old regiments of the Peninsula. Neverthe- 
 less, with these in the front line, and with Brunswickers, 
 Belgians, Dutcli and Germans in support, the British 
 general awaited at Waterloo the impetuous onset of Na- 
 poleon, and at length won that crowning victory which 
 is even yet familiar to the minds of Englishmen. That 
 this final conquest added much more than brilliancy 
 to the honours of Wellington is what cannot be said. 
 The campaign was not long enough for strategy, nor 
 was the battle fought by manoeuvres; but whatever 
 could be done by a^ general was done by England's 
 Duke, and this distinct, and, as it were, personal conflict 
 between the two great commanders of the age, natural- 
 ly invested the conqueror with a peculiar lustre of re- 
 nown. 
 
 By a destiny unexampled in history, the hero of 
 these countless conquests survived to give more than 
 one generation of his countrymen the benefit of his civil 
 services. Such an ordeal has never before been endured 
 by any public character. Military experience does not 
 furnish the fittest schools of statesmanship, especially 
 when the country to be governed is that of a free, in- 
 telligent, and progressive people. But, if the political 
 principles of the great man who has now departed were 
 not always reconcilable with the opinions anfl demands 
 of modern advancement, they were at least consistent 
 in themselves, were never extravagantly pressed, never 
 tyrannically promoted, and never insisted on to the 
 hindrance of the Government or the damage of the 
 State. Tn estimating Wellington's politics it nuist never 
 be forgotten that he was a politician of 1807, and that 
 
118 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 he descended to us the last representative of a school 
 that had passed. If he was less liberally-minded than 
 the statesmen of his later days, we may fairly inquire 
 how many of his own generation would have been as 
 liberal as he ? 
 
 Our memoir now enters upon a period of history 
 entirely new. The great battle of Waterloo had finally 
 terminated the times of war, and introduced a reign of 
 peace so stable, that its conclusion, notwithstanding 
 some disturbances, may yet, we trust, be distant still. 
 The condition of Europe which now ensued was exceed- 
 ingly remarkable. The mighty contest just closed had 
 been a struggle between two principles, which, though 
 they assumed the forms of legitimacy and revolution, 
 included also respectively the more moderate types of 
 conservatism and reform. To all appearances the des- 
 perate game had been at length decided in favour of 
 the party of resistance against the party of progress, and 
 an undisputed sway might now have been anticipated 
 for the ancient traditions of government. Yet the 
 echoes of the cannon had scarcely ceased when the 
 clamours of the people began, and political agitation 
 was commenced with such advantage, popularity, and 
 success as it had never enjoyed during the ascendency 
 of revolutionary France. The explanation of this phe- 
 nomenon is simple enough. The cessation of war and 
 its vicissitudes had left a void in the popular mind. 
 National spirits required new occupation, and the crea- 
 tion of some new interest to satisfy the desires which 
 had been called into being by so exciting a struggle. 
 But with this tendency to agitation in general was com- 
 bined a decided bias in the direction of liberalism. 
 
 / 
 
THE DEMANDS OF PEACE. 119 
 
 Much of the work of the French Revohitionists was im- 
 perishable, and many of their maxims survived the scaf- 
 folds of the Republic and the wars of the Empire. 
 Topics, moreover, and novelties of all kinds had been 
 tossed up by the political storm ; discussion had been 
 earnest, and Sovereigns, in the exigencies of a struggle 
 for life and death, had been induced to concede some- 
 thing and promise more to the reasonable claims of 
 their subjects. Moreover, the pressure of taxation was 
 severely felt, and there was a natural desire to direct 
 again to the proper objects of peace those energies of 
 government which had been so long absorbed in the 
 prosecution of war. The Duke of Wellington himself, 
 in advocating certain measures of European policy at 
 this period, observed with his unerring sagacity, that 
 what was needed by the several Governments was such 
 a peace as would give them " the power of reducing 
 their overgrown military establishments, and the leisure 
 to attend to the internal concerns of their nations, and 
 to improve the situation of their people." 
 
 These conditions of society determined the character 
 of European history dui-ing what has been termed " the 
 30 years' peace," and through which period we shall 
 now have to follow the subject of our memoir. At the 
 outset it appeared as if Sovereigns were not indisposed 
 to share with the people that freedom to which the ex- 
 ertions of the latter had restored them, but, whether 
 scared by visions of reviving Jacobinism or spoiled by the 
 sweets of power, they speedily renounced their views, 
 and concerted a common policy of repression through- 
 out the whole of Europe. With the events which en- 
 sued we are no further concerned than in so far as they 
 
120 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 illustrate the position and conduct of the great Duke in 
 mitigating or controlling them. In Germany and Italy 
 the fires of discontent smouldered, with occasional out- 
 breaks, until the conflagration of 18-48. In France the 
 process was so much more rapid that within 12 yeai*s of 
 the evacuation of that country by the allied forces, the 
 Duke lived to see-flying on the Thames in harmony 
 and concord with the flag of England that very tricolour 
 which his whole military life had been devoted to de- 
 basing. What happened in England under this new 
 system of politics -vve shall presently be called upon to 
 relate. 
 
 The civil career of the Duke of Wellington thus 
 divides itself into two portions, in one of which he co- 
 operated with foi-eign Governments for the general set- 
 tlement of Europe, and in the other took his personal 
 share in the particular administration of his own coun- 
 try. It is to the former of these that our attention must 
 be first directed. 
 
 To prevent any recurrence of those desolating wars 
 which had just been terminated, it was determined to 
 control France, the originator of the evil, by an armed 
 occupation. The command of the force charged with 
 this critical duty was intrusted by common consent to 
 the Duke of Wellington, but for whose powerful media- 
 tion France would have fared far more hardly at tlie 
 hands of the victorious Dowei-s. The exasperated 
 Prussians were bent upon demolishing the monuments 
 of Paris, and even loss revengeful spirits inclined to 
 think that considerable concessions might be exacted 
 from a nation which had inflicted such troubles and 
 miseries on Europe at large. The Duke, however, re- 
 
SETTLEMENT OF AFFAIRS. 121 
 
 strained the fury of Blucher, and succeeded by tlie , 
 wisdom and force of his arguments in modifying the 
 views of the allied Cabinets. It was owing to his re- 
 presentations and influence botli that no penalty of 
 conflsc.'ition was enforced against France, and that the 
 occupation of her territory was temponiry instead of 
 permanent. Against the vindictiveness of some, the 
 ambition of others, and the fears of more, he urged the 
 incontrovertible plea that Europe could never be tran- 
 quil while France was agitated, and that France must 
 infallibly be agitated if left with such reasonable ground 
 of complaint. In all discussions of detail his opinion 
 was invariably thrown on the side of moderation and 
 indulgence, and though he abstained iiom interceding 
 on behalf of Marshal Ney, it is hard to see how this 
 omission can be designated as a dereliction of any posi- 
 tive obligations. It is certainly probable that a request 
 from an officer in the Duke's position would not have 
 been refused by the Government of France, but such a 
 request the Duke was not bound to prefer by any con- 
 siderations of duty or justice. It will hardly surprise 
 the reader to learn that duiing his residence in the con- 
 quered capital his life was twice attemj)ted by assassins 
 — once when a quantity of gunpowder was placed in his 
 cellars for explosion on the occasion of a f6te, and, again, 
 when a pistol was discharged at his carriage as he drove 
 into the gates of his hotel. The author of this latter attempt 
 was Cantillon, the miscreant to whom in respect of this 
 very transaction, Napoleon bequeathed a pecuniary legacy. 
 In the year 1818 was held the iirst of those Royal 
 reunions suggested by the political embarrassments to 
 which we have alluded above. The King of Prussia 
 6 
 
122 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 and the Emperors of Austria and Russia met in the 
 month of September at Aix-la-Chapelle, and this con- 
 ference was attended on the part of the English Crpwn 
 by the Duke of Wellington and Lord Castlereagh. 
 The chief, if not the sole, public business here transacted 
 was the agreement for the evacuation of France by the 
 allied army, and the restoration of that State to its in- 
 dependent dignity among European nations. The pro- 
 posal was in anticipation of the provisions of the treaty 
 which had fixed five years as the possible term of occu- 
 pation. The private interests of the Duke were largely 
 concerned in the maintenance of this arrangement to 
 its full extent. His position and emoluments as Gene- 
 ralissimo of the occupying force were exceedingly grand, 
 and the inclination of most of his political colleagues 
 tended, as he well knew, to the strict enforcement of the 
 compact. Such considerations, howeverj had no weight 
 against his impartial conclusions, and he so successfully 
 exerted his influence in favour of France that the evacua- 
 tion was decided upon without difficulty or delay. 
 
 In the several conferences which rapidly succeeded 
 the meeting at Aix-la-Chapelle no part was taken either 
 by England or her representatives ; but in the year 1822 
 a congress was held at Verona, to which, as Plenipo- 
 tentiary from the British Government, the Duke re- 
 paired, and the occasion is remarkable, not only from 
 the results of the convention, but because it first iden- 
 tified the proceedings of the Duke with the debatable 
 politics of the English Cabinet, and brought our mili- 
 tary hero within the scope of Parliamentary animad- 
 version. Among the subjects which the assembled 
 Sovereigns regarded with anxious solicitude was the 
 
CONGRESS OF VERONA. 123 
 
 State of Spain. The Spanish people had peremptorily 
 demanded the realization of those constitutional pros- 
 pects with which they had long been beguiled, and it 
 seemed probable that Ferdinand VII. would be com- 
 pelled to yield. Such a compulsion was viewed at 
 Verona in the li^'ht of a political sacrilege, and it was 
 determined by France, with more or less assent on the 
 part of the allied Crowns, to maintain the Royal pre- 
 rogative in Spain by force of arms. It happened that 
 just at this period the character of the British Cabinet 
 had received its first important modification from the 
 death of Lord Londonderry and the appointment ot 
 Mr. Canning to the Secretaryship of Foreign Affairs. 
 The Duke, in fact, had received his instructions as 
 Plenipotentiary from the pen of the new Minister, and 
 ^vhen the actual invasion of Spain by a French army 
 in support of absolutist principles was announced to 
 the world, it was loudly exclaimed that either these 
 instructions must have been disregarded, or that the 
 Government had been grossly inattentive to its duty in 
 permitting such an outrage upon the independence and 
 liberties of a people. The debates in Parliament were 
 long and violent, and though those were not times ot 
 Ministerial minorities the Opposition produced some 
 impression by their protests. The Duke defended 
 himself by proving what could never, of so strict 
 a disciplinarian, have been seriously disbeheved- 
 that he had faiftfully conformed to his instruc- 
 tions that those instructions included no authority 
 to use menace, but that, as far as influence or remon- 
 strance could go he had strongly dissuaded such inter- 
 ference with the affairs of the Spanish nation, and had 
 
124 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 set the difficulties of Peninsular intervention in the 
 fullest light from his own experience. At this distance 
 of time we can see that the affair, like many of our 
 own day, was magnified beyond its due proportions for 
 party purposes. It is not unreasonable to suspect that 
 the Duke, who had no personal sympathies with Can- 
 ning, and few, as yet, with his politics, may have co- 
 operated somewhat ungraciously with the liberal suc- 
 cessor of Castlereagh; but, apart from his invariable 
 fidelity to his duties, it is perfectly certain, from his 
 known opinions, that he must have been opposed to 
 the renewal of war in the Peninsula under circum- 
 stances like these. He may have had very little affec- 
 tion for Spanish patriots, and he may have thought 
 that the neutrality professed by his Government would 
 have been as truly violated by contesting the decisions 
 of Russia or France as by dictating terms to Spain, but 
 his opposition to the project was doubtless exerted as 
 cordially as his position allowed. With this occuiTcnce 
 terminated those peculiar duties of the Duke to which 
 we have been referring ; for, though he proceeded on a 
 special embassy to St. Petersburgh in 1826, the event 
 was not of a character to call for much remark. 
 
 During this participation in the counsels of Europe's 
 rulers, the Duke invariably evinced that practical fore- 
 sight which distinguished his character. He was not a 
 liberal politician, nor what we might now term an enlight- 
 ened statesman. He " had seen as much of war as most 
 men," and most of the wars he had seen might be trace- 
 able, in his opinion, to the operation of democratic princi- 
 ples ; but, if he was not in this respect very generously 
 disposed, he was too wise and too sagacious to be tyran- 
 
GRANTS BESTOWED. 125 
 
 nical or severe. His experience of " constitutions," as 
 devised by popular agitators, was not favourable. His 
 principles inclined to legitimate monarchy and to 
 "strong Governments," but none knew better than he 
 that order could only be permanently maintained by 
 consulting the wishes of the people as well as the ca- 
 prices of the Sovereign, and his voice was given on the 
 side of freedom, though not perhaps absolutely for free- 
 dom's sake. 
 
 It must not be imasrined that Eno^land, durino^ these 
 proceedings, was forgetful of her hero. Honors, offices 
 and rewards were showered on him from every quarter. 
 As the Crown had exhausted its store of titles, and 
 Parliament its forms of thanksgiving, the recognitions 
 of his crowning victory took a more substantial shape. 
 In addition to former grants, the sum of £200,000 was 
 voted, in 1815, for the purchase of a mansion and es- 
 tate to be settled on the dukedom. With these funds, 
 a commission appointed for the purpose concluded a 
 bargain with Lord Rivers for the noble domain of 
 Strathfieldsaye, in Hampshire, to be held in perpetuity 
 of the Crown by the Dukes of Wellington, on condition 
 of presenting yearly a tri-colour flag to the British sove- 
 reign, on the 18th of June. This symbol, correspond- 
 ing to a similar token presented by the Dukes of Marl- 
 borough, is always suspended in the Armory at Wind- 
 sor Castle, where the little silken trophies may be seen 
 hanging together in perpetual memory of Blenheim and 
 Waterloo. The estate of Strathfieldsaye has since been 
 largely increased by the investments of the Duke's pri- 
 vate economy; it is now, w^e believe, many miles in 
 circumference, and, though the mansion is not pro- 
 
126 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 portioned to the dignity either of the domain or the 
 title, the avenue by whicli it is approached is almost 
 unequalled. During the first year of his residence in 
 Paris, the state of his health induced him to repair to 
 Cheltenham, and gave occasion for an infinite number 
 of grateful or festive acknowledgments. Among these 
 was the opening of Waterloo Bridge, at which cere- 
 mony the hero of the title appeared, with the Prince 
 Regent and the Duke of York, under a salute of 202 
 guns, and it was at the same period that the erection 
 of the present Apsley House, a residence privately pur- 
 chased by the Duke, was undertaken and completed by 
 Mr. Wyatt. We are now so familiarized with monu- 
 mental efligies of our hero in every possible guise, that 
 it may surprise the reader to hear, that the trophy in 
 the Park was for twenty years the only statue of the 
 Duke of which the metropolis could boast. It was 
 subscribed for by the ladies of England, between 1819 
 and 1821, and was erected on the Waterloo anniversary, 
 in 1822, in which year, also, the merchants of London 
 presented their elaborate shield. The crown, meantime, 
 had lost no opportunity of signalizing its mindfulness 
 of services rendered. The Duke, in 1818, was appoint- 
 ed Master-General of the Ordnance, in 1819 Governor 
 of Plymouth, and in 1820 Colonel-in-Chief of the 
 Rifle Brigade, into which, at the disbandment of cer- 
 tain regiments, the famous old 95th had been trans- 
 muted. As to foreign Courts, they had already said 
 and done their utmost ; but in 1818, the Sovereigns of 
 Austria, Russia and Prussia simultaneously promoted 
 the Duke to that rank in their respective forces which 
 he had already reached in his own ; so that of the 
 
THE ADMINISTKATION. 127 
 
 soldier who has just expired, we may assert the incredi- 
 ble fact, that though he gained every honour by service 
 and none by birth, he died a Field Marshal of near 
 forty years standing in four of the greatest armies in 
 the world. 
 
 The time, however, had now arrived when the great 
 Duke was to take a more direct and visible part in the 
 Administration of his country, and it was under the 
 following circumstances that he entered on this duty. 
 The old Tory Cabinet of the war had subsisted for ten 
 years under the presidency of Lord Liverpool, without 
 matei'ial modification in its constitution or policy. Mr. 
 Canning, it is true, had been for some time at the head 
 of the Board of Control, but it was not until his acces- 
 sion to the Foreign-office, in 1822, that his influence 
 was substantially felt in the measures of the Govern 
 ment. But now the elements of mighty change began 
 perceptibly to work. The days of unmitigated Toryism 
 were drawing to a close, and the precursors of reform 
 appeared upon the scene. Tli« principles of general 
 liberalism in the person of Canning, and of free trade 
 in that of Huskisson, were to be gradually introduced 
 into the stubborn Cabinet of the Regency, and old men 
 were at length to give place to new. Of the four ancient 
 notabilities Lord Londonderry was already gone. Lord 
 Sidmouth had just retired. Lord Eldon was declining, 
 and the end of Lord Liverpool was at hand. It was a 
 period of transition, and, like all such periods, was rife 
 with angry suspicions, with incessant jars between the 
 men of resistance and the men of progress, with mistakes, 
 recriminations, compromises, and confessions. 
 
 Over and above the innumerable points of general 
 
128 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 policy to be thus reconsidered, there were two great ques- 
 tions awaiting a decision — those of Pa]'Hanientar3'' 
 reform and Catholic emancipation. The foMmer of these, 
 though originally entertained by a Tory Minister, had 
 become politically identified with the pledges of the 
 Whigs, and was adopted rather than promoted by the 
 " Radicals" of the time as the chief object of their agita- 
 tion. The latter was less essentially a party question, 
 for it concerned rather the practical government of Ire- 
 land than the recognition of a theoretical principle, and 
 statesmen and Cabinets had been divided on its merits 
 ever since the opening of the war. The measure, how- 
 ever, had been seized by the Whigs as their own ; it 
 had been defeated by the Tories, and its destinies were 
 generally connected with the prospects of Whig ascen- 
 dency. This party had now, for a very long interval, 
 been excluded fi-om power. Their adversaries had mono- 
 polized the credit of the war and the support of the 
 electoral constituencies, and it almost seemed as if they 
 were in-emovably established in their seats of office. 
 
 During all this time the condition of the country 
 had been disturbed and feverish in the extreme. Those 
 public discontents which on the Continent had taken 
 the form of military insurrection, in England assumed 
 the shape of political agitation. George IV., who in 
 1820 had exchanged the title of Regent for that of 
 King, was in no favour with the people. He had so 
 long anticipated the position of Royalty, that his ac- 
 tual accession to the throne brought with it none even 
 of those indefinite expectations which usually make a 
 new reign popular. Though personally connected 
 with the Whig party in times past, he had promptly 
 
POSITION OF AFFAIRS. 129 
 
 confirmed the ascendency of the Tories on coming to 
 the Crown ; and the known selfishness of his disposition 
 appeared to pe only aggravated by power, while his 
 more attractive qualities had gradually given place to 
 the morosity of age. His personal character, indeed, 
 figured largely in the complaints of the people, who de- 
 scribed their Sovereign as absorbed in the luxurious en- 
 joyments of a misanthropical seclusion while his sub- 
 jects were suffering the extremities of pressure and 
 want. There was great reason for these murmurs. 
 Though the state of the country imperatively needed re- 
 forms, the great policy of the Ministry was that of repres- 
 sion alone. While new ideas were fermenting among 
 the people with the diff"usion of political knowledge 
 and the growing conviction of misgovernment, the 
 Cabinet policy was that of 20 years before, with its 
 rigorous maxims of resistance and severity. The con- 
 sequences were nothing but natural. The people were 
 seduced by demagogues into wicked excesses and ex- 
 travagant demands. They held •nightly gatherings in 
 the large towns and manufacturing shires, hatched chi- 
 merical plots of marching on the metropolis, talked 
 plain treason at public assemblies, and proposed the 
 forcible overthrow of the Government. A conspiracy 
 for the assassination of the Ministry in a body was ac- 
 tually formed, and was not defeated by any want of 
 resolution or earnestness on the part of the conspirators. 
 On the other hand, the Government was confirmed by 
 these very excesses both in its own repressive policy and 
 in the support of the well-affected part of the population. 
 They spared, therefore, neither the law nor the sword. 
 They sent artillery into one county and special com- 
 6* 
 
130 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 missions into another; they charged public meetings 
 with cavalry, and strung up rioters and sheepstealers 
 on the same gallows. Their names were saluted with 
 cries of execration, and their persons made the object 
 of incessant hostility, but they paid spies to worm out 
 the secrets of the seditious, and pursued their unswerv- 
 ing course in reliance on principles which had carried 
 England, as they imagined, through worse storms than 
 these. 
 
 In this unpopularity of the Administration the 
 great Duke participated. Though it was impossible to 
 overlook his transcendent claims to respect, and though 
 he had not as yet taken any very active part in do- 
 mestic politics, yet he was known to be of the Tory 
 school, and connected, indeed, by ties of the closest 
 sympathy with the hated Castlereagh. Even his mili- 
 tary eminence was no recommendation in the eyes of 
 those who denounced soldiers as the instruments of ty- 
 ranny, and who had scarcely been brought, even by a 
 galaxy of victories, to approve of an anti-democratic 
 war. The indications, too, which he had given of his 
 sentiments were not of a tendency to conciliate a sus- 
 picious public. As Master- General of the Ordnance he 
 had taken a seat in the Cabinet, had concun-ed in the 
 prosecution of the Queen, and had spoken in terms of 
 soldierlike bluntness about certain proceedings of the 
 Opposition. He was now, however, to do more. He 
 was to become an influential member of the Administra- 
 tion, and to bear his part, foi* good or evil, in the im- 
 portant changes which were \p convert the British Go- 
 vernment from what it was under George IV. to what 
 it is under Queen Victoria. 
 
POLITICAL CRISIS. 131 
 
 . For two or three years affairs proceeded without the 
 occurrence of any remarkable conjuncture. The foreign 
 poHcy of England had been conclusively severed from 
 that of the allied Courts of the Continent, and a few 
 steps were taken in the direction of commercial emanci- 
 pation ; but the political crisis was still suspended. 
 Mr. Canning and Mr. Huskisson were looked upon 
 with no kindly eyes ; but, though the wedge had been 
 effectually inserted, no further impulse was given to it 
 for some time. Lord Eldon croaked and prophesied, 
 Lord Liverpool looked doubtingly ahead, and the 
 Duke, perhaps, saw further than others ; but the old 
 Administration remained in outward form substantially 
 the same, and the catastrophe was yet to come. At 
 length, in February, 1827, Lord Liverpool's faculties 
 suddenly failed him, and his ftill left the Government 
 not only without a head, but without that influence 
 which had hitherto kept it together. Its constituents 
 were divided among themselves on all the great ques- 
 tions coming on. The old shell of the Administration 
 was anti-Catholic and anti-Liberal, but its vital elements 
 represented emancipation and progress. The Duke had 
 not yet discerned the necessity of the latter doctrines, 
 but he was too sagacious to consort with dotards or 
 bigots, and allied himself rather with Mr. Peel, who 
 had succeeded to Lord Sidmouth's office of Home Secre- 
 tary in 1822. Thus, besides the old Tory staff' and the 
 new leaven, there were the great Duke and his friends, 
 who, if open to conviction, were not yet prepared for 
 change, and by no means well disposed towards those 
 who were promoting it. 
 
 At the time of Lord Liverpool's illness there were 
 
132 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 two important subjects before the Legislature. The* 
 Roman Catholic question created a violent debate and 
 a close division, while Mr. Husldsson's doctrines had 
 taken the substantive form of a Corn Bill, intended to 
 relax the restrictive system in force. The former subject 
 came on under Canning's direction, while the govern- 
 ment was still without a head ; but the motion was lost 
 in the Lower House, and was, consequently, not dis- 
 cussed in the Lords. After a few weeks, however, when 
 if became evident that Lord Liverj^ool's recovery was 
 beyond hope, the formation of a new Ministry became 
 indispensable, and on the 10th of April the King sent 
 for Mr. Canning. The claims of this statesman to the 
 Premiership, both from official services and popular 
 favour, were incontestable ; but his opinions represented 
 only a minority of the Cabinet, and it had now to be 
 seen whether those who could co-opei*ate with ^Iv. 
 Canning under the concihatory presidency of Lord 
 Liverpool would be content to acknowledge his control 
 as leader of the Administration. As far as Catholic 
 emancipation went, no great difficulties need have inter- 
 vened, for, though the new Premier's disposition in 
 favour of Ireland was well known, the question was left 
 an open one. But Mr. Canning, though not a Whig by 
 profession, was a Liberal by principle, and his Ministry, 
 under whatever title, must be a Liberal Ministry. For 
 this the Duke was not prepared, and when the new 
 appointment was duly communicated to the members 
 of the late Government he, like the majority of his col- 
 leagues, sent in his resignation. Nor did he stop here, 
 for he~laid also at the King's feet the Master-General- 
 ship of the Ordnance and the Commandersl^ip-in- 
 
RESIGNS OFFICE. 133 
 
 .Chief, to which, at the Duke of York's death, he had 
 naturally succeeded. Moreover, when in the ensuing 
 June the Corn Bill of Canning and Huskisson came 
 before the House of Lords, he moved and carried an 
 amendment destructive of the measure, although it had 
 been prepared by a government of which at the time 
 he was a member. 
 
 These remarkable circumstances occasioned an ex- 
 traordinary agitation in the public mind. It was as- 
 serted that the coincidence of the resignations, which 
 all reached Mr. Canning within a few hours of each 
 other, disclosed a combination of their writers against 
 the independence of the Sovereign and the success of 
 the new Administration, and as the Duke, though not 
 the foremost statesman of the party, was the most dis- 
 tinguished personage concerned, and as he had taken 
 what appeared to be the gratuitous step of retiring even 
 from the CommandershijD-in-Chief, it was alleged that 
 he had desired the Premiership for himself, and had 
 adopted these measures to disconcert and embarrass the 
 Government. On these points he delivered himself of 
 an elaborate exculpation from his place in the House of 
 Lords, averring, among other declarations, that, so far 
 from seeking to conduct a Government, he was " sen- 
 sible of being unqualified for such a situation," and that 
 lie "should have been mad to think of it" — words 
 which were not forgotten in subsequent times. No 
 reader will now suppose tbat the Duke of Wellington 
 ever entertained the idea of dictating to his Sovereign, 
 or of combining with others in the spirit imputed to 
 him, nor is there, in fact, any need of such a forced hy- 
 pothesis in explanation of the facts. What the Duke 
 
184 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 i 
 
 felt at the new appointment, all felt, and all were ready 
 to mark their disapprobation. They did not desire a 
 Liberal Government ; they did not admire " political 
 adventurers," and they were unprepared for a Cabinet 
 in which the Premier was committed to the emanci- 
 pation policy, however open the question might be con- 
 sidered. There is no doubt that, besides all this, the 
 Duke was personally adverse to an intimate connexion 
 with Mr. Canning, and this feeling induced him to dis- 
 cover hostility in the Premier's communications, and 
 to decide against retaining an office which, though un- 
 political in itself, would require a certain cordiality of 
 co-operation with the head of the Government. As to 
 his conduct on the Corn Bill, he disavowed amid angry 
 bickerings any intention of annoying the Ministry, or 
 even defeating the measure by the amendment which 
 he suofffested. 
 
 The whole episode was of brief duration. Ex- 
 liausted by toil, deserted by those who should have 
 supported him, and relentlessly persecuted by all who 
 distrusted his politics or envied his elevation, Mr. Can- 
 ning expired in the fourth month of his office, and left 
 the King and the Government in worse perplexities than 
 before. An Administration was then formed under Lord 
 Goderich, who, as Mr. Robinson, had succeeded to the 
 Chancelloi-ship of the Exchequer at the time that Mr. 
 Canning became Foreign Secretary. The new Cabinet 
 closely resembled the last in its constitution, but its 
 leader was wholly incapable of impressing any unity of 
 purpose upon a Ministry in times like these .Mr. Can- 
 ning died in August, and before the end of the year 
 Lord Goderich had resigned his office in despair. Thus 
 
rillME MINISTER. 135 
 
 there appeared to be no chance of a good working 
 Ministry under the Canning poHcy, while the true days 
 of the old Tories were already past, and those of the 
 Whigs not quite come. In liis embarrassments the 
 King did what Kings and Queens have so often done 
 since ; he sent for the Duke of Wellington. The Duke 
 repaired to the Royal closet, and, to the surprise of 
 some, the amusement of many, and the satisftiction of 
 more, was gazetted as Prime Minister of England with- 
 in eight months after his own declaration that the office 
 was wholly beside his powers. 
 
 Since Canning's death he had so far qualified his re- 
 cent secession from affairs as to return to the command 
 of the army, and he had just gratified his countrymen 
 by a series of visits to the aristocracy, in a progress 
 which fell little short of the splendours of royalty. He 
 was now to charge himself with the formation of a 
 Cabinet and the responsible direction of public business, 
 under circumstances found impracticable by those who 
 had preceded him in the attempt. Perhaps both the King 
 and the Duke would have preferred an Administration 
 constructed wholly on the principles entertained by the 
 Premier, but of this there appeared no acceptable chance. 
 So the Duke took Mr. Huskisson, whom he misliked, 
 and four more " Canningites" besides, but he still re- 
 tained Peel at his side, and it was evident that the soul 
 of the Administration resided here. The Chancellor- 
 ship of the Exchequer was filled by Mr. Goulburn, a 
 name long afterwards respectably connected with the 
 party thus rising ; but, though the Canningites formed 
 the weaker element of the Cabinet, they were thought 
 to contribute much towards shaping its policy; and 
 
136 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 SO, in truth, they did, for, though the men were soon 
 changed, their spirit survived in the measures brought 
 forward. 
 
 Before the eyes of the great Duke and his colleagues 
 there still loomed the three great questions of the time — 
 questions on which neither all Liberals nor all Conser- 
 vatives thought alike, but which the force of opinion 
 was clearly pressing onwards for a decision. There was 
 a question of rehgious disabilities, sometimes under the 
 form of Corporation and Test Acts, but ultimately shap- 
 ing itself into Irish Emancipation. There was the ques- 
 tion of Free Trade, sometimes in the guise of Spitalfields 
 or Navigation Acts, sometimes involved in corn aver- 
 ages or warehousing regulations, but always tending to 
 untaxed bread ; and finally, under motions for disfran- 
 chising one constituency and enfranchising another, ap- 
 peared the mighty question of Parliamentary reform. 
 On all these the Duke held opinions which were prob- 
 ably averse to material change. That he was opposed 
 to the views of the Liberal party we cannot assert, for 
 not all of the Liberal party desired the modification of 
 the Corn Laws ; nor that he was opposed to the wishes 
 of the country, for the country on the whole, did not de- 
 sire Catholic emancipation. But it is probable that, on 
 his own judgment, he would have maintained the exist- 
 ing institutions in substantial integrity. What he then 
 thought of the Corn Laws he had recently shown ; what 
 he thought, after much longer consideration, of Parlia- 
 mentary reform, is not yet forgotten ; and what he 
 thought of religious disabilities we shall presently see. 
 
 The very first business of the session brought these 
 principles on the table. Lord John Russell moved for 
 
CORPORATION AND TEST ACTS. 137 
 
 a repeal -of the Corporation and Test Acts — the first 
 step towards that religious freedom which Catholic 
 emancipation would manifestly consummate. Govern- 
 ment opposed the measure; but the Reformers were too 
 strong for them, and the measure was carried in a full 
 house by a majority of 44. Moreover, although the 
 Duke did not approve of this policy, there were some 
 of his colleagues who did, so that he had to encounter 
 with a divided Cabinet the declared resolution of the 
 Commons. The times, indeed, were such that unani- 
 mity was scarcely attainable ; for the old party could 
 hold no longer, and no new formation had been made. 
 These difficulties had demolished Lord Goderich, but 
 they were not too great for the Duke, though his policy 
 may at first sight appear not heroic. He yielded, took 
 up the bill with a good grace, and, against the despe- 
 rate resistance of his old friend Lord Eldon, and of all 
 who thought the church and the constitution veritably 
 at stake, carried it under his own auspices, through the 
 House of Lords. 
 
 A month afterwards came a Corn Bill of Mr. Hus- 
 kisson's again, and the Duke again compromised his 
 private resolutions by accepting it as a Government 
 measure. Later still, as if the session was to test the 
 new Ministry on every vital point, the question of Par- 
 liamentary Reform was brought under discussion, upon 
 a motion to disfranchise the two boroughs of Penryn 
 and East Retford, and invest Manchester and Birming- 
 ham with the electoral privileges thus vacated. In 
 the course of the contest, a division was taken on the 
 particular substitution of Birmingham for East Retford. 
 Government said " No " to the proposal, but Mr. Hus- 
 
138 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 kisson, though still Colonial Secretary, had managed 
 to commit himself to an affirmative vote. Confused at 
 his position, ho sent the Duke what was either a resig- 
 nation or an offer of resignation, and what the Duke 
 chose to think was the former. There was, in plain 
 truth, but little cordiality between them. Though the 
 Duke's personal feelings had vanished with Mr. Can- 
 ning's death, he had still no liking to his party, and 
 certainly no preference for Mr. Iluskisson above others. 
 Unpleasant jars had occurred already. Mr. Iluskisson 
 had publicly assured his Liverpool constituents that he 
 had not entered the new Administration without a 
 "guarantee" for the general adjustment of its policy by 
 that of Mr. Canning. This sounded as if a "pledge" 
 had been exacted and given — an idea which the Duke 
 indignantly repudiated ; and Parliamentary explana- 
 tions had to be offered before the matter could be set 
 at rest. So this time the dift'erence was made final. 
 In vain did the common friends and colleagues of the 
 two statesmen endeavour to "explain" the unlucky com- 
 munication. The Duke, in terms which passed into 
 proverbial use, replied, that there "was no mistake, 
 could be no mistake, and should be no mistake." He 
 was not sorry, in fact, that so convenient an opportunity 
 had been created to liis ha«id. Mr. Huskisson, there- 
 fore, retired, and with him retired not only Lord Dud- 
 ley, Mr. Lamb, and Mr. Grant, but even Lord Palmers- 
 ton. Of the Canningites, Lyndhurst alone remained ; 
 and the substitution of Lord Aberdeen, Sir Henry Har- 
 dinge, and Sir George Murray for the seceding malcon- 
 tents at length gave consistency to the Wellington 
 Ministry ; and formed, with the names of Peel and 
 
EVENTS AND CONSEQUENCES. 145 
 
 'ways attends great coRqiierors, for his decisions had 
 hitherto been all for Liberalism, and Liberalism is rarely- 
 offensive to the great mass of Englishmen. But with 
 the upper and middle classes he had plainly lost ground, 
 with the latter by his sacrifice of " Protestantism" and 
 consistency — with the former by his irruption upon the 
 old political traditions of government and party. In 
 fact, the "strong Ministry" of the great Duke was al- 
 ready weak, partly from the disorganization of his sup- 
 porters, partly trom dislike of his military sternness, but 
 mainly from the very nature of events and consequences. 
 It had done its work ; its one great object was accom- 
 plished, and, like the Ministry of 1846, after the repeal 
 of the Corn Law^s, it could do little better than retire 
 with credit. But matters were not yet ripe for such a 
 change, and the Duke, who perhaps hardly compre- 
 hended his own position, and who, if he had compre- 
 hended it, would never have weighed it against the po- 
 sition of the country, continued still to hold the reins of 
 State. 
 
 Of the three great questions which the times were 
 maturing for solution, the Duke, in his Ministerial ca- 
 pacity, had now practically disposed of two. In the 
 matter of Free Trade he had given as much as was yet 
 asked for, and in that of leligious freedom he had even 
 outstripped the desires of the public. But the third 
 question, that of Parliamentary Reform, still remained 
 for consideration, and it was upon this rock that his 
 hitherto infallible sagacity was at length to make ship- 
 wreck. The subject had not been obscured even by the 
 absorbing topic of the recent session. A Tory nobleman 
 had even converted the Ministerial policy on the Eman- 
 
146 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 cipation Bill into an argument for the policy of the ex- 
 treme Radicals, asserting, by a whimsical deduction, 
 that purchasable seats could no longer be permitted to 
 exist with safety, now that Papists might become the 
 purchasers. To this singular proposal the old Reformers 
 added their usual motions, but with so little success that 
 even the moderate proposition, in which the Canningites 
 concurred, of transferring to Birmingham the particular 
 franchise of East Retford, was lost by a majority of 21. 
 On the question of Parliamentary Reform, as compre- 
 hensively understood and agitated — that is to say, the 
 systematic reconstruction of the people's House in the 
 Legislature, Mr. Huskisson and his followers were of 
 one mind with the Tories, nor had the Duke anything 
 to apprehend in Parliament beyond the hopeless at- 
 tempts of the purely liberal members. Perhaps, if he 
 had seen symptoms of greater urgency out of doors, he 
 might have corrected his opinion ; but, in point of fact, 
 public agitation, though so violent a few months later, 
 did not wear a very serious aspect at the opening of 
 1830. Political unions — those leagues which after- 
 wards became so famous — had been instituted in some 
 large towns, but with the object, as it appeared, of their 
 own special enfranchisement rather than of any general 
 innovations. The great change in the national mind 
 was wrought or precipitated by the effect of an exam- 
 ple, and this example was close at hand. 
 
 In the summer of the year 1830 Europe once more 
 experienced the shock of a French revolution — a shock 
 which was transmitted instantaneously from the Seine 
 to the Vistula, and which this time lost little of its force 
 in crossing the British Channel. Its operation was 
 
REVOLUTION OF 1*30. 14*7 
 
 greatly facilitated by a demise of the Crown. George 
 IV. had expired just at this period, and with him had 
 gone all that the Tories relied on and the Liberals 
 feared, in the personal influence of the Sovereign. On 
 his throne there was now seated an affable and con- 
 ciliatory Monarch, known to be generously inclined, 
 and believed to be well disposed towards the advocates 
 of constitutional reforms. He had acted like his pre- 
 decessor in confirming the existing Ministry in office, 
 and he had even been at pains to dispel a prevalent 
 assumption of his personal dislike to the Premier. But 
 the plot was now thickening rapidly, and events for 
 once left the great Duke behind. Throughout the 
 length and breadth of the land there spread rapidly a 
 feverish sympathy with the French, an ardent desire for 
 improved institutions^ and a resolute determination to 
 attain an end, however imperfectly conceived. The 
 Duke did not comprehend this movement, and, as he 
 was not for it, he was against it. He could not tolerate 
 disorder, and so he turned to measures of repression. 
 He had committed himself by injudicious proceedings 
 against the press, and he now damaged his credit still 
 further by his attitude of unyielding and peremptory 
 resistance to public feehng. At the present moment of 
 national regret it will hardly appear credible that Eng- 
 land's hero should ever have fallen into such popular dis- 
 esteem as was then exhibited, but the conjuncture was 
 exceptional, and circumstances combined strangely 
 against his credit with the nation. He had offended 
 his old colleagues by his Liberalism and his new allies 
 by his Conservatism ; he had scandalized " stanch Pro- 
 testants " — never an uninfluential portion of the com- 
 
14 8 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 m unity — by surrendering- his position ; and he was now 
 to offend the unreasoning multitude by making a stand. 
 Besides this, he was connected in popular rumours with 
 the obnoxious Polignac, whom he was said to have 
 abetted in his tyrannical attempts, and whose proceed- 
 ings unluckily resembled his own in respect of his treat- 
 ment of the press. Even the professional renown of the 
 great captain rather injured than helped him at this 
 gloomy crisis, for he was regarded as the personifica- 
 tion of that force which might be employed against 
 liberty, to the possible destruction of popular hopes. 
 Stories went abroad of military preparations, special 
 musters, and significant appointments, and even the 
 cleansing of the Tower ditch, under the directions of 
 the Duke as Constable of tliat fortress, though suggest- 
 ed simply by the removal of Old London-bridge, was 
 represented as a menace against the citizens of London. 
 Though twenty years of better feeling have since elap- 
 sed, it is not without shame that we record the ebul- 
 litions of discontent which ensued. It was pretended 
 that the Duke's life would not be safe in the city at the 
 Lord Mayor's feast, and it is certain that the conqueror 
 of Waterloo was hooted through Piccadilly, and that 
 the windows of his residence were protected against his 
 own countrymen by casings of iron. 
 
 The Whigs now saw that their time was come, nor 
 did the Duke refuse the battle. He knew that the fight 
 was for Parliamentary Reform, and he brought the point 
 to an issue without the delay of an hour. It surprises 
 observers of our own generation to conceive how such 
 a man at such a crisis could ever have been so mistaken. 
 To all appearances the conjuncture of affairs fell pecu- 
 
RESISTS REFORM. 149 
 
 jiarly within the range of his statesmanship. It was a 
 question of yielding, or resisting, of assigning a due 
 and proper vahie to the reahty of the grievance, the 
 demands of the times, and the force of opinion. The 
 Duke had understood sucli questions in the cases of 
 Free Trade and Catholic Emancipation, and it is aston- 
 ishing that he should have stumbled at a case which 
 was clearer than either. To us it seems that the jus- 
 tice of the popular demand, the urgency of the crisis, 
 and the probable safety of the experiment, ought to 
 have been as clear to the Duke's eyes at that time as 
 they are to our own at present. None could read 
 signs around him better than he, and yet for this once 
 he utterly failed. The new Parliament met in Novem- 
 ber, and at the very opening of the session the Duke de- 
 livered his memorable declaration, "that the country 
 already possessed a Legislature which answered all the 
 good purposes of legislation, that the system of repre- 
 sentation possessed the full and entire confidence of the 
 country, and that he was not only not prepared to bring 
 forward any measure of reform, but would resist such as 
 long as he held any station in the Government of the 
 country." These few words decided in five minutes the 
 destinies of the Government and the country too. Rad- 
 ical reform became an immediate certainty, and away 
 went the Tories for ever, and the Wellington party for 
 ten long years. 
 
 Thus terminates the great Duke's Ministerial career. 
 When his party, after so protracted an eclipse, reappeared 
 in 1841 under the new title of "Conservatives," he re- 
 sumed, indeed, his place in the Cabinet, but without 
 special oflSce or active political duty. From this time 
 
150 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 his capacity in the Administmtion of the State acquir- 
 ed those peculiar features with which we are now so 
 familiar. Without being- professionally a member of 
 Government, his aid was understood to be always avail- 
 able for Ministerial Councils, and the command of the 
 army, which he had resigned on accepting the Premier- 
 ship, but which had reverted to him in 1843, supplied 
 a pretext, if any were wanting, for investing him with 
 this exceptional function. Perhaps no position could 
 have been better suited to his political abilities. That 
 he was not a great statesman in the proper acceptation 
 of the term, we need not scarcely remark ; and he 
 evinced, in fact, no less than his usual sagacity when 
 from his seat in Parliament he made the candid but ex- 
 aggerated avowal of his incompetence for high civil 
 office. The declaration was apparently contradicted by 
 subsequent events, but it was, in reality, founded upon 
 sound self-knowledge and a distinct perception of affairs. 
 It is quite true that at a conjuncture when measui'cs seem- 
 ed less important than men, and when, from the decline 
 of the Tories, the abeyance of the Whigs, and the death 
 of Canning, there was an absolute void in the political 
 world, the King sent for the Duke, and made him Prime 
 Minister of England. But it certainly cannot be said 
 that his performances in this position belied his own an- 
 ticipations, or proved him more fit than he had beheved 
 himself to conduct the government of a State like 
 England. He displayed certain abilities, beyond doubt, 
 and did, as we have said, what no other man could 
 have done at the time. It was plain, however, that he 
 was no longer in his proper element. The Wellington 
 of Downing-street was not the Wellington of Portugal. 
 
DEFECTS OF STATESMANSHIP. 151 
 
 He could take sound views of most subjects before him, 
 and carry out a Government resolution with unflinching 
 promptitude. He could amuse the country by his ap- 
 plication of regimental discipline to the lounging clerks 
 of his oflBces, and set a more important example by in- 
 troducing military economy into the management of 
 public business. But for the higher and more compre- 
 hensive duties of a statesman he had not been trained, 
 perhaps not born, and none saw the truth more clearly 
 than himself. What he had intended to assert was, 
 that he felt himself unqualified for the professional ex- 
 ercise of those high civil powers, in the contention for 
 which many of those around him had spent the studies 
 and experience of a life. This simple statement he 
 expressed, according to his custom, in hyberbolical 
 terms, to. which occurrences almost immediately en- 
 suing supplied a somewhat whimsical contradiction ; 
 but the truth had been spoken nevertheless. Now, 
 however, he was released from the responsibilities of 
 which he felt incompetent, and called upon for nothing 
 but those sage opinions which on particular subjects 
 were of such unquestioned value. In this capacity he 
 was by no means illiberally disposed. He had seen too 
 many parties broken up, and had taken too great a share 
 in the work himself, to be bigotedly attached to party 
 distinctions, and the course of events towards the close 
 of his career tended still more completely to obliterate 
 those political landmarks which had existed at the be- 
 ginning. The Duke, therefore, though a Conservative 
 by descent and tradition, was no violent antagonist of 
 the Whigs. He knew that " the Queen's government 
 must be carried on," and this government could be 
 
152 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 carried on miicli more smoothly with his co-operation 
 than luuler the disapproval, howe\'er tacit, of so distin- 
 guished a subject. So \\v did the best hi his power for 
 all, discharging' his dulits with nearly the same cor- 
 diality whether a Whig or a Tory Piemier was at the 
 helm, and regarding the general efficacy of the State 
 machinery as a more im[)()rtant consideration ^tlian the 
 traditions of the party in power. If he was not one of 
 " Her Majesty's advisers" by office, he was incontestably 
 so in fact, for no character of iiistory was ever summoned 
 more frequently to give counsel to royalty in straits. 
 Whether the embarrassment was a sudden resignation 
 of the ministry, or an imperfect conception of an Ad- 
 ministration, or a Jk'dchamber plot, or a- dead lock, it 
 was invariably the Duke wdio was called in — some- 
 times as a man who could do and say to others of all 
 ranks and pai'ties what couW be said and done by no 
 other person living, sometimes as an arbiter in whose 
 decision all disputants would concur, sometimes as a 
 pure i)olitical fetish to get the State out of trouble, no- 
 body could tell how. 
 
 Arguments had been devised to prove that in carry- 
 ing the Catholic Relief ]3ill the Duke of Wellington 
 was but developing the principles professed in the Irish 
 Parliament by Arthur Wesley. W^e cannot attacli any 
 value to such deduciions. There is little room foF mis- 
 take about the Duke's political conduct. He had no 
 conception whatever of enfranchisement for freedom's 
 sake. He did not like the repeal of the Test Acts, but 
 he accepted it as a necessity when the times were too 
 strong for him. At his own ReHef measure he never 
 looked as Wilberforce looked on the Abolition Act, or 
 
POLITICAL CONDUCT. * 153 
 
 Lord Grey on the Reform Bill. In his eyes it was no 
 triumph of principle — it was a " bad business," as he 
 plainly said, but "the State was aground."'' All that 
 can be said is, that he recognized necessity when it ar- 
 rived, and made the best of it, like a soldier. If he 
 would fain have maintained these oppressive statutes, he 
 did not, at any rate, conceive that the absolute exist- 
 ence of the Church and the Constitution was contained 
 in them, and, if he did the work of repeal with reluc- 
 tance, he at least did it not negligently. The character- 
 istics of his policy must be sought, not in the principle 
 of the great measure he was proposing — for at heart he 
 condemned it — but in the tactics by which he carried it 
 through the Legislature. He knew that if it was to 
 be done there was but one way to do it, and he took 
 it out of the people's hands into his own. He breathed 
 not a syllable of his purpose till the action had com- 
 menced, and he then brought the whole force of Govern- 
 ment upon the point without scruple or delay. His 
 adversaries clamoured loudly against both his conceal- 
 ment and his precipitation — a sure proof of the saga- 
 city in which the plan was conceived. He knew that 
 if he had given time for an " appeal to the country" the 
 country would very probably have gone wrong, and^ 
 after he had once seen what was right, he took the whole 
 responsibility of the decision upon himself. 
 
 From this period the Duke's time passed smoothly 
 enough along. His transient unpopularity speedily 
 vanished with the decline of agitation and his own pre- 
 sumed return to a more reasonable policy. The people 
 soon forgot that he had been an obstructive, and the 
 Tories that he had been a Repealer. He was soon 
 7* 
 
154 'THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 cheered in the streets again as " the great Duke," and 
 when the University of Oxford, in 1834, elected him its 
 Chancellor, we may fairly consider that his compulsory 
 Liberalism had been condoned. In the same year it 
 seemed for a moment a:s if his Ministerial life were 
 to recommence, and under singular conditions too. 
 The Whigs had been dismissed, and the King, as usual, 
 "sent 'for the Duke." The Duke advised that Sir 
 Robert Peel should be charged with the formation of a 
 Ministry, but Sir Robert was abroad, and until his re- 
 turn, therefore, the Duke actually, at his Sovereign's 
 desire, took upon himself ad interim eight of the chief 
 Government offices together, including those of the 
 three Secretaries of State. In one of the latter — that 
 of Foreign Affairs — he was induced to remain ; but in 
 a few weeks the whole fabric vanished, and there 
 was an end of the hazard till 1841. And now, as time 
 and circumstances were gradually leveUing the distinc- 
 tions of party, the Duke's business became easier still. 
 True to his own creed, he accepted the definite repeal 
 of the Corn Laws, and under the same conditions, in- 
 deed, would probably have proposed it. He had no 
 longer much difficulty in adjusting himself to Conserva- 
 tive Whigs or Liberalized Tories. His rule was neces- 
 sity — and most Governments of late years have been 
 guided by the Duke's own standard. 
 
 In turning, however, to the military character of 
 the hero who has just expired, we shall be under no ne- 
 cessity of modifying the eulogies which all Englishmen 
 will desire to hear. In pronouncing the great Duke to 
 have been one of the most consummate generals ever 
 known, we can run no risk of being led into exaggera- 
 
MILITARY CHARACTER. 155 
 
 tion by our gratitude or our regret. The opinion must 
 be confirmed by the voice of history, for there is no test 
 of mihtary excellence which the Duke's achievements 
 will not sustain. He was victorious against all kinds 
 of enemies and in all kinds of warfare. He circum- 
 vented Asiatics more deceitful than the Aifghans,and sub- 
 jugated races more powerful than the Sikhs. His cam- 
 paign of Waterloo was briefer and more brilliant than 
 that of Jena, and his seven years' war in the Peninsula 
 was maintained without the reverses and with more 
 than the successes of Frederick the Great. The troops 
 which he conquered were those which had previously 
 conquered all the troops of Europe in succession ; the 
 generals who failed before him were those whom no 
 other commanders had been able to resist. If it be said 
 that there were soldiers against whom Wellington was 
 never pitted, yet these had been already beaten by 
 those whom he surpassed, so that the first place was 
 clearly the right of England's Duke alone. He showed 
 himself master of defensive tactics in Portugal, of often- 
 sive tactics in Spain, of mountain warfare in the Pyre- 
 nees, of strategy at Salamanca, of true military science 
 everywhere. His forecast was unfailing, and if his 
 operations ever suffered for lack of provision the fault 
 is invariably traceable to those who had neglected his 
 warnings. To say that he was overcautious or phleg- 
 matic is to speak in total ignorance of his exploits. 
 His position in the Peninsula did not admit of the 
 license assumed by generals who had free privilege to 
 rob and unbounded command of reinforcements ; but 
 never was a battle won with a more reckless dash than 
 that of Assaye, never a feat of arms more audacious 
 
166 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 than the passage of the Doiiro, never a campaign more 
 rapid or briUiaut than that which cari'ied the British 
 army from the Agneda to the Garonne. 
 
 Nor was his genius less eminently conspicuous in 
 the manufticture of his materials. The Duke made his 
 own anny, and with few aids beyond the school of the 
 militia and the reminiscences of Egypt. Yet, before 
 the Spanish war had reached its second campaign, Na- 
 poleon drew out for the use of his generals a new 
 scheme of tactics to be employed against " good troojys, 
 like the English." To such a point, too, had the excel- 
 lence of the Portuguese army been brought under his 
 vigilant supervision, that at the opening of the cam- 
 paign of 1815, when hard pressed for troops on whom 
 he could rely, he had applied, though in vain, for the 
 aid of his old Peninsular contingent on the plains of 
 the Netherlands. That he was beloved by the army to 
 the extent which his victories might have warranted is 
 more than can be said. In those qualities which con- 
 ciliate personal affection he was naturally deficient. 
 He always and inflexibly considered duty before feeling, 
 and put nothing in the balance against the rules of the 
 service, the needs of the Government, and the general 
 good of the State. On the question of the Peninsular 
 medals it was not unreasonably thought that he sacri- 
 ficed substantial claims on his advocacy to notions of 
 official punctilio. But if he rarely tempertd his duties 
 with kindness, he always performed them with consid- 
 eration, and never permitted them to be affected by in- 
 terest or favour. If not generally loved, he was uni- 
 versally respected, admired, and confided in. He cer- 
 tainly never possessed Cajsar's power of fascination, 
 
WELLINGTON AND MARLBOROUGH. 157 
 
 and yet the Peninsular army, as we are emphatically 
 told by its historian, felt to him as the 10th legion felt 
 towards Cjfisar. He was always mindful of their pro- 
 fessional wants, always jealous of their honour, and, 
 above all, he invariably conducted them to victory. 
 
 There are two great commanders — one of a past 
 age and one of our own, with whom it may be natural, 
 if not profitable, to compare the third, who has just 
 departed. Between the careers of WeUington and 
 Marlborough there are these points in common — that 
 both appeared on the scene at the beginning of a cen- 
 tury when the overgrown power of France was threat- 
 ening Europe with subjection ; that both found the 
 militai-y credit of England at its lowest point, and that 
 both succeeded by their victories and conquests in rais- 
 ing it to the highest. Both Avere crippled by the fetteis 
 of a coalition and the necessities of a Government ; 
 both worked with inadequate means, and both brought 
 their wars to a triumphant conclusion. But with these 
 superficial similarities the resemblance ends. In no 
 pei-sonal capacity can Wellington be likened to Marl- 
 borough. The latter, a dissolute and unprincipled 
 courtier, with no visible quality of a soldier beyond 
 title and costume, suddenly found himself when already 
 Knight of the Garter, Duke, and Captain-General of 
 England, intrusted through private interests with the 
 command of an army. In this situation he developed, 
 apparently without consciousness to himself, the intui- 
 tive genius of an unrivalled general, exactly as if the 
 daemon of military genius had suddenly possessed him- 
 self of the body of a fop. On the other hand, Welles- 
 ley, a youngei- brother, with no fortune but his sword, 
 
158 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 and little more aid from interest than was then abso- 
 lutely required for common promotion, fighting his way 
 upward step by step, and receiving no rank which was 
 not due to his services, whatever might have actually 
 been the motives for its bestowal, won his command at 
 last rather by force of merit than help of favour. To 
 this training his military qualities corresponded. With- 
 out enthusiasm, affectation, or hypocrisy, he set steadily 
 to work upon his purpose, overlooking no conditions 
 which might influence the result, making the best of 
 his means, and hoping the best of his fortune. His 
 capacity seems to have diftered from that of his con- 
 temporaries rather in degree than in kind. He was 
 not a heaven-born general, but he possessed all the 
 distinctive quahties of English officers in greater excel- 
 lence than any of them. It appears to have been his 
 conviction that war depended for its success rather 
 upon the unceasing exertions of sound military prac- 
 tice than the eccentric strokes of genius. He was not 
 wanting in either enterprise or audacity, for audacity 
 and enterprise occasionally furnish the most prudent 
 principles of action, but in general he relied rather on 
 those calculations of experience which rarely deceive ; 
 and though he has been styled the favourite of fortune 
 by writers driven to seek some consoling explanation 
 of his victories, he in reality trusted less to fortune than 
 any general ever known. He measured his own 
 strength, and that of his antagonists, with the most 
 unerring nicety, and computed distant results with a 
 sagacity which has rarely been equalled. His conclu- 
 sions were of universal application, for they were 
 founded on observation and formed with impartiahty. 
 
WELLESLEY AND BONAPARTE. 159 
 
 While outnumbered and overmatched in Portugal, and 
 destined, in men's estimation, to speedy discomfiture, 
 he was speculating correctly on the Imperial system of 
 Napoleon, and supplying the Enghsh Ministry with 
 plans of operation in Canada, Sicily, or Sweden. He 
 comprehended, in short, the true situation of Europe, 
 military as well as political, when the like knowledge 
 had not been attained by any other living man. 
 
 If, again, we couple the names of Wellesley and 
 Bonaparte, we shall find the materials rather for a con- 
 trast than a parallel. Their opportunities, their means, 
 and their objects were widely difterent. To argue 
 from the victory of Waterloo that Wellington was a 
 greater General than Napoleon would be merely to 
 adopt a fallacy of poi3ular judgment ; but we see no 
 reason for concluding that Bonaparte would have fared 
 better than his marshals ^in that protracted struggle 
 which tried the military power of the two nations. As 
 Wellington's successes increased the impatient Emperor 
 did, indeed, announce his intention from time to time, 
 of descending upon the Tagus to " finish the war with 
 a clap of thunder," and he censured the errors of his 
 marshals with equal particularity and vehemence. But 
 it is hard to see what more he could have done himself 
 beyond extinguishing their ill-timed rivalries by the 
 predominant force of his will. The French armies could 
 hardly have received any material augmentation, for 
 the Peninsula was already saturated with the Imperial 
 legions ; nor could they have been concentrated in 
 much larger masses for much longer periods, since the 
 country, as was proved, could not maintain them. No 
 one, we presume, will assert, that the Emperor could 
 
160 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 have conducted the Portuguese invasion more resolutely 
 than Massena, or plunged into the Pyrenees more au- 
 daciously than Soult. He would never, it is true, have 
 overlooked an opportunity, but the British general 
 would never have given him one. Napoleon owed 
 much to the weakness of his antagonists, but Welling- 
 ton was neither a Mack nor a Bcnningsen, nor an 
 Alexander, nor a Frederick William, nor even an 
 Archduke Charles. At Waterloo, and there, perhaps, 
 only. Napoleon on a fair field encountered really good 
 troops, handled by a really great commander, and then 
 he failed. 
 
 We may admit, without derogation to the claims 
 of our national hero, that he might perhaps have been 
 unequal to those gigantic combinations by which Na- 
 poleon extended the Imperial sway from Sweden to 
 Sicily, and from the Bay pi Biscay to the Niemen. 
 Possibly no man but Napoleon could have conceived 
 and executed, in the nineteenth century such a scheme 
 of universal empire. But Bonaparte worked by prodi- 
 gies, and Wellington by oi'dinary means. One exer- 
 cised absolute and iiTcsponsible dominion over a mighty 
 nation of soldiers, and disposed at his discretion of 
 contingents from two-thirds of Europe. The other 
 could barely obtain an army of 30,000 men, and in the 
 command of these he was fettered by jealous restric- 
 tions, annoyed by factious complaints, and crippled by 
 the want of necessary supplies. Napoleon's marshals 
 might rob, massacre, and terrify at pleasure — they owed 
 no account to their master on any score but that of 
 success. AVellington was compelled by position, no 
 less than Dolicy, to conciliate instead of coercing, nor is 
 
SOUNDNESS OF HIS SYSTEM. 161 
 
 it too mucli to say, that half the energies which should 
 have been disposable against the enemy were consumed 
 in expostulations with his countrymen and allies. The 
 military powers of the two commanders were never 
 brought fairly to a contest. All we can say is, that 
 Wehington's prognostications of the soundness of his 
 own system, as compared with Napoleon's, were veri- , 
 tied to the letter, and that what could be done with . 
 50,000 troops against a million, was done by the Brit- 
 ish general. He took post in a craggy corner of the 
 continent, and there maintained himself against all the 
 strength and all the science that could be despatched to 
 subdue him. Waiting his opportunity, he at length 
 issued from his retreat, and continued his victorious 
 course over the borders of France. He was once, at a 
 period which would have brought him face to ftice with 
 the great Emperor, offered a command in Germany, 
 and the result might have solved the question which it 
 is now profitless to debate. His reply Avas so charac- 
 teristic of his plain sense and modesty, that we subjoin 
 it as it was given : " I am the Prince Regent's servant, 
 and I will do whatever he and his Government please. 
 But I would beg of them to recollect that the great ad- 
 vantages which I enjoy here, consist in the confidence 
 that everybody feels that I am doing what is right, 
 which advantage I should not enjoy, for a time at least, 
 in Germany. Many might be found to conduct matters 
 as well as 1 can, both here and in Germany ; but no- 
 body w^oidd enjoy the same advantage here, and I 
 should be no better than another in Germany." An 
 attentive student of the German campaigns might be 
 inclined, perhaps, on this point, to doubt the great 
 
162 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Duke's conclusion. His part would have been surely- 
 played even in such composite battles as that of Leipsic ; 
 and since Napoleon never commanded a better army, 
 and Wellington could hardly have had a ruder one, 
 than those which fought at Waterloo, it is natural to 
 draw from this engagement some inferences applicable 
 to a campaign. 
 
 Both Wellington and Napoleon, like most great 
 generals, were eminently endowed with administrative 
 talents, and both conceived themselves peculiarly gifted 
 in mattei"s of finance. The Duke is even said to have 
 expressed his opinion that his true genius was rather for 
 the Exchequer than the War-office. At one of the most 
 critical conjunctures of the Peninsular War he drew up 
 a most able paper on the true principles of Portuguese 
 banking ; and at Seringapatam, after very serious e^^ls 
 had been experienced from a long standing debasement 
 of the coinage, a memorandum was accidentally dis- 
 covered in the treasury from the pen of Colonel Welles- 
 ley, every prediction and observation of which had been 
 exactly verified by events. On this point, no less than 
 on the question of military strategy, the gigantic scale 
 on which the French Emperor acted precludes any 
 effective comparison with operations in a smaller sphere. 
 It would be ridiculous to question Napoleon's extraordi- 
 nary genius for organization in the face of such im- 
 perishable records as remain. But in estimating these 
 creations his unparalleled facilities of action should be 
 taken into account. With no opinions to consult, no 
 interests to reconcile, no claims to adjust — with a tabula 
 rasa of all rights, prejudices, institutions, and establish- 
 ments, it was not very difficult for a creative genius to 
 
STERLING GOOD SENSE. 163 
 
 occupy itself with the task of constructing anew. 
 Wellington enjoyed no such opportunities. His abilities 
 were tasked in a Government where all progress is the 
 result of compromise, Avhere no interest is destroyed 
 without compensation, where the most resolute Minister 
 is forced to qualify his own convictions in deference to 
 those of his opponents, and where every act has to sus- 
 tain the tedious ordeal of Parliamentary discussion. We 
 do not say that Wellington possessed Napoleon's power 
 of administration. We are aware that no such preten- 
 sions could be advanced on his behalf. But it should 
 be also added that their respective spheres of action 
 admit of no comparison, and that the Duke's conclusions 
 if less brilliant than the conceptions of his antagonist, 
 have proved better calculated for the test of experience. 
 The chief characteristic of Wellington's mind was 
 that sterling good sense which is said to distinguish the 
 capacities of his countrymen in general. This peculiar 
 merit is visible in every line of his despatches and in 
 every act of his career. He never neglected opportu- 
 nities of observation. While stopping at Madras, on 
 his first voyage to Calcutta, he so acquainted himself 
 with the administration of that Presidency that the My- 
 sore war found his local knowledge already prepared. 
 Before hostilities commenced with Scindiah, he had 
 studied the features of the debateable ground, and 
 drawn up minutes on the management of a Mahratta 
 campaign. He was found prepared, when the emer- 
 gency arrived, with memoranda for operations in Egypt, 
 in Portugal, and in Spain. He gave advice to Louis 
 and Ferdinand, which, if followed, might have saved 
 manv of the revolutions he lived to see. He was never 
 
164 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 credulous nor enthusiastic, bigoted nor vindictive. He 
 restrained the exasperation of Bkicher in 1815, and 
 threw his weight, as we have seen, on the side of mode- 
 ration in the councils of Vienna. He never set human 
 nature at more or less than it was worth. He made 
 allowance for passions, interests, and contingencies, 
 computed things at their true value, and deduced con- 
 clusions which were rarely wrong. His despatches 
 abound with opinions of the Governments, politics, and 
 men with whom he was brought into contact ; and it 
 would be difficult to point out one among them all 
 which facts have not more or less confirmed. 
 
 The long period of peace which it has been the for- 
 tune of our generation to experience gave the great 
 Duke no opportunity of again displaying his talents in 
 the field, but he still, as Commander-in-Chief of the 
 British army, contributed the benefits of his unmatched 
 ability to tlie military administration of the country. 
 He had once, as we have seen, either from caprice, 
 oi' punctilio, resigned this office, at the time of Mr. 
 (Manning's Premiership, and he again relinquished the 
 charge in 1828, as incompatible with his own position 
 as Mr. Canning's successor. In 1843, however, on the 
 death of Lord Hill, he resumed the command of the 
 forces, which he retained till his death. His general 
 views in this capacity partook of his policy at large. 
 His administrative talent was incontestable, and was 
 evinced by the order and economy of every department 
 under his charge, and the eft'ective working of the whole. 
 On all points of discipline his regulations were dis- 
 tinguished by a perfect' knowledge of the characters 
 with which he had to deal, and by that sound common 
 
MILITARY KEFOMS. 165 
 
 sense which never forsook him. As respected the or- 
 ganization and -equipment of the army, no opinions 
 could be more Hberal than his own ; but it caimot be 
 said that he was equally enlightened in his views of the 
 service in general. In fact, he looked upon military 
 reforms as he looked upon civil reforms, without abso- 
 lute bigotry, but with no willing mind. The successive 
 improvements in the condition of the British soldier 
 originated with others than the Commander-in-Chief, 
 and were not unusually carried out in his despite. For 
 all that could make the soldier " efficient," according to 
 the old practical ideas of efficiency, a ready advocate 
 was always to be found in the Duke ; but the reforms 
 of the recruiting and the relief systems, the ameliora- 
 tion of barrack life, and the abolition of military flog- 
 ging, were not due to the Commander-in-Chief, though 
 experience has now shown with what perfect propriety 
 they were introduced. His professional faculties never 
 failed him to the last. His views respecting the ex- 
 posure of our coasts to invasion, however their sound- 
 ness might have been contested at the time, were indis- 
 putably correct according to the maxims of his own ex- 
 perience. If there was error, it was not in judgment, 
 but in understanding. If Frenchmen and Englishmen 
 were indeed such as the Duke had known them — if 
 war was to be, as heretofore, the appeal of Kings and 
 Cabinets at the first international disagreement — then 
 there could be no doubt that our defences were inade- 
 quate for public security. These conditions we may 
 hope have somewhat changed, but it can be little re- 
 proach to the old Duke that he had not yet arrived at 
 such conviction. On our famous 10th of April, his pe- 
 
166 THE DUKE 01' WELLINGTON. 
 
 culiar genius was exerted to the unspeakable advantage 
 of peace and order. So effective were his preparations 
 that the most serious insurrection could have been suc- 
 cessfully encountered, and yet every source of provoca- 
 tion and alarm was removed by the dispositions adopted. 
 No military display was anywhere to be seen. The 
 troops and the cannon were all at their posts, but 
 neither shako nor bayonet was visible, and for all that 
 met the eye, it might have been concluded that 
 the peace of the metropolis was still intrusted to the 
 keeping of its own citizens. As an instance, however, 
 of his forecast against the worst on this memorable oc- 
 casion, it may be observed that orders were given to the 
 commissioned officers of artillery to take the discharge 
 of their pieces on themselves. The Duke knew that a 
 cannon shot too much or too little might change the 
 aspect of the day, and he provided by these remarkable 
 instructions both for impei'turbable forbearance, as long 
 as forbearance was best, and for unshrinking action, 
 when the moment for action came. 
 
 In the House of Lords the Duke was a regular at- 
 tendant and not unfrequently a speaker, but the jour- 
 nals of that august body supply few testimonies of our 
 hero's excellence. His opinions and votes, excepting 
 when his natural Conservatism had not yet been suffi- 
 ciently influenced by pressure from without, were rare- 
 ly otherwise than soundly given, but his motives were 
 often imperfectly expressed. It has been said that a 
 collection of Cromwell's speeches would make the most 
 nonsensical book in the world, and though such a remark 
 is certainly not warranted by the orations of Wellington, 
 yet in this point a certain resemblance is discov^erable 
 
EXAGGERATED EXPRESSION. 16Y 
 
 between the two great soldiers. The Duke allowed 
 himself, in addressing the House, to be carried away, 
 not perhaps by his feehugs, but by the impetus of a de- 
 livery which, Avithout being either fluent or rapid, was 
 singularly emphatic and vehement. He magnified his 
 own opinions in order to impress them upon his hearers. 
 If he recommended, as he did with great alacrity, a 
 vote of thanks to an Indian general, the campaign was 
 always " the most brilHant he had ever known ;" if he 
 wished to stigmatize a disturbance of the peace, it was 
 something transcending "anything he had ever seen 
 in all his experience," though such a quality could hard- 
 ly be predicated of any disorders under the sun. One 
 of the best chroniclers of his deeds has attributed this 
 precipitate bestowal of praise and censure to a na- 
 tural failure of character, but we suspect that in many 
 cases the error of the opinion was due to the manner 
 of its delivery alone. Few men have been intrusted 
 with more delicate missions in the distribution of re- 
 wards, and none could have discharged such duties 
 with more unimpeachable discrimination. The Duke 
 could appreciate events with unfailing nicety, but he 
 failed in the capacity to describe them, and of late 
 years his speeches, where they were not tautology, were 
 often contradictions. Nor could the failing be traceable 
 to age alone, for it was observed, though in a less de- 
 gree, during the earlier stages of his career, and is the 
 more remarkable from the contrast presented by his 
 despatches. No letters could ever be more temperately 
 or perspicuously expressed than these famous docu- 
 ments. Even as specimens of literary composition they 
 are exceedingly good — plain, forcible, fluent, and occa- 
 
168 THE DUKE OF WELLIXGTON. 
 
 sionally, like those of Napoleon, even humorous with- 
 al. It is true that the correspondence, especially in the 
 earlier volumes, often partakes of a more familiar cha- 
 racter than pertains to a general's " despatches ;" but if 
 the reader desires to feel the full force of our encomium 
 we need only refer him to the despatches of Marlbo- 
 rough for a subject of comparison. 
 
 The pi'ivate life of the Duke was simple, methodi- 
 cal and familiar in most of its features to all inhabitants 
 and visitors of the metropolis. His attendance at the 
 eai-ly service at the Chapel Royal and at the Whitehall 
 sermons, his walk in the park in former years, and of 
 late times his ride through the Horse Guards, with his 
 servant behind him, are incidents which every news- 
 paper has long chronicled for the information of the 
 countr}'. His personal habits were those of inilitar}' 
 punctuality, his daily duties were discharged syste- 
 matically as they recurred, and his establishment was 
 as thriftily regulated as the smallest household in the 
 land. This economy enabled him to eft'ect considerable 
 savings, and it is believed that the property of the title 
 must have been very largely increased. He married in 
 1806 the Hon, Catharine Pakenham, third daughter of 
 the second Baron Longford — a lady for whose hand, 
 as Arthur Wellesley, with nothing but the sword of an 
 infantry captain to second his pretensions, he had pre- 
 viously, we are informed, been an unsuccessful suitor. 
 The Duchess died in 1831, and the Duke's name was 
 recently coupled with that of numerous ladies who were 
 successively selected by report as the objects of his 
 second choice. He expired, however, a widower, leav- 
 ing two sons to inherit his name. Full of years beyond 
 
CONCLUSION. 169 
 
 the term of mortality, and of honours almost beyond 
 human parallel, he has descended into his grave amid 
 the regrets of a generation who could only learn his 
 deeds from their forefathers, but who know that the 
 national glory which they witness and the national se- 
 curity which they enjoy were due, under God's provi- 
 dence, to the hero whom they have just now lost. 
 
THE TIMES' 'LEADER' ON THE DEATH 
 OF THE DUKE.* 
 
 If aught can lessen this day the grief of England 
 upon the death of her greatest son, it is the recollection 
 that the life which has just closed leaves no duty incom- 
 plete and no honour unbestowed. Thei Duke of Wel- 
 lington had exhausted nature and exhausted glory. 
 His career was one unclouded longest day, filled from 
 dawn to nightfall with renowned actions, animated by 
 unfailing energy in the public service, guided by un- 
 swerving principles of conduct and of statesmanship. 
 He rose by a rapid series of achievements which none 
 had surpassed to a position which no other man in this 
 nation ever enjoyed. The place occupied by the Duke 
 of Wellington in the councils of the country and in 
 the life of England can no more be filled. There is 
 none left in the army or the Senate to act and speak 
 with like authority. There is none with whom the val- 
 our and the worth of this nation were so incorporate. 
 
 *^This was the only editorial article of the Times of Sep- 
 tember 15, 1852. 
 
ALONE IN HISTORY, 171 
 
 Yet, when we consider the fuhiess of his years and the 
 abundance of his incessant services, we may learn to 
 say with the Roman orator, ''Satis diu vixisse dkito^' 
 since, bein^ mortal, nothing could be added either to 
 our veneration or • to his fame. Nature herself had 
 seemed for a time to expand her inexorable limits, and 
 the infirmities of age to lay a lighter burden on that 
 honoured head. Generations of men had passed away 
 between the first exploits of his arms and the last coun- 
 sels of his age, until, by a lot unexampled in history, the 
 man who had played the most conspicuous ^art in the 
 annals of more than half a century became the last sur- 
 vivor of his contemporaries, and carries with him to the 
 grave all living memory of his own achievements. To 
 what a century, to what a country, to what achieve- 
 ments was that life successfully dedicated ! For its 
 prodigious duration— for the multiplicity of contempo- 
 rary changes and events, far outnumbering the course 
 of its days and years — for the invariable and unbroken 
 stream of success which attended it from its commence- 
 ment to its close, from the first flash of triumphant val- 
 our in Indian war to that senatorial wisdom on which 
 the Sovereign and the nation hung for counsel to its 
 latest hour — for the unbending firmness of character 
 which bore alike all labour and all prosperity— and for 
 unalterable attachment to the same objects, the same 
 principles, the same duties, undisturbed by the passions 
 of youth and unrelaxed by the honours and enjoyments 
 of peace and of age— the life of the Duke of Welling- 
 ton stands alone in history. In him, at least, posterity 
 will trace a character superior to the highest and most 
 abundant o-ifts of fortune. If the word' "heroism" can 
 
1*72 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 be not unfairly applied to liim, it is because lie remained 
 greater than his own prosperity, and rose above the 
 temptations by which other men of equal genius, but 
 less self-government, have fallen below their destinies. 
 His life has nothing to gain from the language of pane- 
 gyric, which would compare his military exploits or his 
 civil statesmanship with the prowess of an Alexander 
 or a C-^sAR, or with the astonishing career of him who 
 saw his empire overthrown by the British General at 
 Waterloo. They were the offspring of passion and of 
 genius, jflung from the volcanic depths of revolutions 
 and of civil war to sweep with meteoric splendour across 
 the earth, and to collapse in darkness before half the 
 work of life was done. Their violence, their ambition, 
 their romantic existence, their reverses, and their crimes 
 will for ever fascinate the interest of mankind, and con- 
 stitute the secret of their fame, if not of their gi-eatness. 
 To such attractions the life and character of the Duke 
 of Wellington present no analogy. If he rose to 
 scarce inferior renown, it was by none of the passions or 
 the arts which they indulged or employed. Unvan- 
 quished in the field, his sword was never drawn for ter- 
 ritoi'ial conquest, but for the independence of Europe 
 and the salvation of his country. Raised by the uni- 
 versal gratitude of Europe and of this nation to the 
 highest point of rank.and power which a subject of the 
 J3ntish monarchy could attain, he wore those dignities 
 and he used that influence within the strictest limits of 
 M subject's duty. No law was ever twisted to his will, 
 no I'ight was ever sacrificed by one hair's breadth for 
 his aggrandizement. There lived not a man either 
 among his countrymen or his antagonists who could 
 
MOULDED ON REALITY. 1*73 
 
 say that this great Duke had wronged him ; for his en- 
 tire existence was devoted to the cause of legal authority 
 and regulated power. You seek in it in vain for those 
 strokes of audacious enterprise which in other great cap- 
 tains, his rivals in fame, have sometimes won the prize 
 of crowns or turned the hie of nations. But his whole 
 career shines with the steady light of day. It has 
 nothing to conceal, it has nothing to interpret by the 
 flexible organs of history. Everything in it is manly, 
 compact, and clear; shaped to one rule of public duty, 
 animated by one passion — the love of England, and the 
 service of the Crown. 
 
 The Duke of Wellington lived, commanded, and 
 governed in unconscious indifference or disdainful aver- 
 sion to those common incentives of human action which 
 are derived from the powers of imagination and of sen- 
 timent. He held them cheap, both in their weakness 
 and in their strength. The force and weight of his 
 character stooped to no such adventitious influences. He 
 might have kindled more enthusiasm,' esj^ecially in the 
 early and doubtful days of his Peninsular career ; but 
 in his successful and triumphant pursuit of glory her 
 name never passed his lips, even in his addresses to his 
 soldiei-s. His entire nature and character were moulded 
 on reality. He lived to see things as they were. His 
 acute glance and cool judgment pierced at once through 
 the surface which entangles the imagination or kindles 
 the sympathy of the feelings. * 'Truth, as he loved her, 
 is to be reached by a rougher path and by sterner 
 minds. In w^ar, in politics, and in the common transac- 
 tions of life, the Duke of Wellington adhered inflexi- 
 bly to the most precise correctness in word and deed. 
 His temperament abhorred disguises and despised exag- 
 
174 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 gerations. The fearlessness of his actions was never the 
 result of speculative confidence or foolhardy presump- 
 tion, but it lay mainly in a just perception of the true 
 relation in which he stood to his antagonists in the field 
 or in the Senate. The greatest exploits of his life, such 
 "as the passage of the Douro, followed by the march on 
 Madrid, the battle of Waterloo, and the passing the 
 Catholic Relief Bill, were performed under no circum- 
 stances that could inspire enthusiasm. Nothing but the 
 coolness of the player could have won the mighty stakes 
 upon a cast apparently so adverse to his success. Other 
 commanders have attained the highest pitch of glory 
 when they disposed of the colossal resources of empires, 
 and headed armies already flushed with the conquest 
 of the world. The Duke of Wellington found no 
 such encouragement in any part of his career. At no 
 time were the means at his disposal adequate to the 
 ready and certain execution of his designs. His steady 
 progress in the Peninsular campaigns went on against 
 the current of fortune, till that current was itself turned 
 by perseverance and resolution. He had a clear and 
 complete perception of the dangers he encountered, but 
 he saw and grasped the latent power which baffled 
 those dangers and surmounted resistances apparently 
 invincible. That is precisely the highest degree of 
 courage, for it is courage conscious, enlightened, and 
 determined. 
 
 Clearness of discernment, correctness of judgment, 
 and rectitude in action were, without doubt, the prin- 
 cipal elements of the Duke's brilliant achievements in 
 war, and of his vast authority in the councils of his 
 country, as well as in the conferences of Europe. They 
 gave to his determinations an originality and vigour 
 
DIRECTNESS OF MIND. l75 
 
 akin to that of genius, and sometimes imparted to his 
 language in debate a pith and significance at which 
 more brilliant orators failed to arrive. His mind, equally 
 careless of obstacles and of effect, travelled by the short- 
 est road to its end ; and he retained, even in his latest 
 years, all the precision with which he was wont to 
 handle the subjects that came before him, or had at 
 any time engrossed his attention. This was the secret 
 of that untaught manliness and simplicity of style that 
 pervades the vast collection of his despatches, written as 
 they were amidst the varied cares and emotions of war; 
 and of that lucid and appropriate mode of exposition 
 which never failed to leave a clear impression on the 
 minds of those whom he addressed. Other men have 
 enjoyed, even in this age, more vivid faculties of inven- 
 tion and contrivance, a more extended range of foresight, 
 a more subtle comprehension of the changing laws of 
 society and the world. But the value of these finer 
 perceptions, and of the policy founded upon them, has 
 never been more assured than when it was tried and 
 admitted by the wisdom and patriotism of that vener- 
 able mind. His superiority over other men consisted 
 rather in the perfection of those qualities which he pre- 
 eminently possessed than in the variety or extent of his 
 other faculties. 
 
 These powers, which were unerring when applied 
 to definite and certain facts, sometimes failed in the ap- 
 preciation of causes which had not hitherto come under 
 their observation. It is, perhaps, less to be wondered 
 at that the soldier and the statesman of 1815, born and 
 bred in the highest school of Tory politics, should have 
 miscarried in his opinion of those eventful times which 
 followed the accession of William IV., than that the 
 
176 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 defeated opponent of Reform in 1831 should have risen 
 into the patriot senator of 184G and 1851. Yet the 
 Administration of 1828, in which the Duke of Wel- 
 lington occupied the first and most responsible plcjce, 
 passed the Catholic Emancipation Act, and thereby 
 gave the signal of a rupture in the Tory party, never 
 afterwards entirely healed, and struck the heaviest blow 
 on a system which the growing energies of the nation 
 resented and condemned. Resolute to oppose what he 
 conceived to be popular clamour, no man ever recog- 
 nized with more fidelity the claims of a free nation to 
 the gradual development of its interests and its rights; 
 nor were his services to the cause of liberty and im- 
 provement the less great because they usually consisted 
 in bending the will or disarming the prejudices of their 
 fiercest opponents. Attached by birth, by character, 
 and by opinion to the order and the cause of the British 
 aristocracy, the Duke of Wellington knew that the 
 true power of that race of nobles lies, in this age of the 
 world, in their inviolable attachment to constitutional 
 principles, and their honest recognition of popular rights. 
 Although his personal resolution and his military ex- 
 perience qualified him better than other men to be the 
 champion of resistance to popular turbulence and sedi- 
 tion, as he showed by bis preparations in May, 1832, 
 and in April 1848, yet wisdom and forbearance were 
 ever the handmaidens of his courage, and, while most 
 firmly determined to defend, if necessary, the authority 
 of the State, he was the first to set an example of con- 
 ciliatory sacrifice to the reasonable claims of the nation. 
 He was the Catullus of our Senate, after having been 
 our C^sAR in the field; and, if the commonwealth of 
 England had ever saluted one of her citizens with the 
 
SOCIAL TRAITS. l77 
 
 Roman title of Parens Patriae, that touching- honour 
 would have been added to the peerage and the baton 
 of Arthur Wellesley by the respectful gratitude and 
 faith of the people. 
 
 Though singularly free from every trace of cant, his 
 mind was no stranger to the sublime influence of re- 
 ligious truth, and he was assiduous in the observances 
 of the public ritual of the Church of England. At 
 times, even in the extreme period of his age, some ac- 
 cident would betray the deep current of feeling which 
 he never ceased to entertain towards all that was chiv- 
 alrous and benevolent. His charities were unosten- 
 tatious but extensive, and he bestowed his interest 
 throughout life upon an incredible number of persons 
 and things which claimed his notice and solicited his 
 aid. Every social duty, every solemnity, every cere- 
 mony, every merry-making, found him ready to take 
 his part in it. He had a smile for the youngest child, 
 a compliment for the prettiest face, an answer to the 
 readiest tongue, and a lively interest in every incident 
 of life, which it seemed beyond the power of age to 
 chill. When time had somewhat relax^ed the sterner 
 mould of his manhood, its eff'ects were chiefly indicated 
 by an unabated taste for the amusements of fashionable 
 society, incongruous at times with the dignity of ex- 
 treme old age, and the recollections of so virile a career. 
 But it seemed a part of the Duke's character that every 
 thing that presented itself was equally welcome, for he 
 had become a part of every thing, and it was foreign 
 to his nature to stand aloof from any occurrence to 
 which his presence could contribute. He seems never 
 to have felt the flagging spirit or the reluctant step of 
 
1*78 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 indolence or ennui, or to have recoiled from any thing 
 that remained to be done ; and this complete perform- 
 ance of every duty, however small, as long as life re- 
 mained, was the same quality which had carried him in 
 triumph through his campaigns, and raised him to be 
 one of the chief Ministers of England and an arbiter of 
 the fate of Europe. It has been said that in the most 
 active and illustrious hves there comes at last some in- 
 evitable hour of melancholy and of satiety. Upon the 
 Duke of Wellington that hour left no impression, 
 and probably it never shed its influence over him ; for 
 he never rested on his former achievements or his length 
 of days, but marched onwards to the end, still heading 
 the youthful generations which had sprung into life 
 around him, and scarcely less intent on their pursuits 
 than they are themselves. It was a finely balanced 
 mind to have worn so bravely and so well. When 
 men in after times shall look back to the annals of Eng- 
 land for examples of energy and public virtue among 
 those who have raised this country to her station on the 
 earth, no name will remain more conspicuous or more 
 unsulHed than that of Arthur Wellesley, the great 
 Duke of Wellington. The actions of his life were 
 extraordinary, but his character was equal to his actions. 
 He was the very type and model of an Englishman ; 
 and, though men are prone to invest the worthies of 
 former ages with a dignity and merit they commonly 
 withhold from their contemporaries, we can select none 
 from the long array of our captains and our nobles 
 who, taken for all in all, can claim a rivalry with him 
 who is gone from amongst us, an inheritor of imperish- 
 able fame. 
 
SIE EOBEET PEEL. 
 
 FROM THE LONDON TIMES, JULY 4, 1852. 
 
 A GREAT age has lost a great man. Sir Robert Peel, 
 whom all parties and all nations associate more than 
 any other statesman with the policy and glory of this 
 empire, is now a name of the past. He has been taken, 
 as it were, from his veiy seat in the Senate, with nothing 
 to prepare us for his departm-e, and every thing now to 
 remind us of it, with his powers unabated, and his part 
 unfulfilled. Although gradually removed during the 
 last four years from the sphere of party, he had still 
 political fiiends to be reconciled, a social position to be 
 repaired, motives to be appreciated, and acts to be justi- 
 fied by the tardy and conflicting testimony of results. 
 fA devoted band of admirers hoped to see him set right 
 with all the world, while life and strength still remain- 
 ed ; and that day of peaceful triumph seemed not very 
 distant. There were others who still saw in Sir Robert 
 Peel the man who had more than once saved his coun- 
 try at the cost of his party, and might again be called 
 to a task which demanded such marvellous powers and 
 so singular a position. The page that recorded his last 
 
180 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 great effort was scarcely spread before the eyes of the 
 nation when the object of all these hopes and calcula- 
 tions was suddenly withdrawn, and they who speculate 
 or dream over the great game of politics have to read- 
 just their thoughts to the loss of the principal actor. 
 
 The highest possible estimate of Sir Robert Peel's 
 services is that which we are invited to take from the 
 mouth of his opponents. If we are to trust them, we 
 are to believe that but for Sir Robert Peel this country 
 would long since have repudiated the exact performance 
 of its pecuniary obligations ; that half our fellow-subjects 
 would still be excluded by their creed from office and 
 power; and that the means of existence would still be 
 obstructed and enhanced in their way to a teeming and 
 industrious population. Nor can it be denied that this 
 estimate has a very general consent in its favour. If it 
 be asked who bound England to the faithful discharge 
 of the largest debt ever contracted or imagined by man, 
 and who thereby raised her credit and advanced her 
 prosperity to an unexampled standard, one name, and 
 one only, will present itself to the mind of either English- 
 man or foreigner, and that name is Peel. If, aoain, it 
 be asked who admitted eight or nine million British 
 subjects to the rights of British citizenship, the answer 
 still is Peel. If, lastly, it be asked who opened the 
 gates of trade, and bade the food of man flow hither 
 from every shore in an uninterrupted stream, it is still 
 Peel who did it. On these three monuments of wisdom 
 and beneficence other names may be written, but the 
 name of Peel is first and foremost. Yet they were no 
 ordinary achievements. It is within the memory of the 
 living generation that every one of these three things 
 
REPEAL OF THE CORN LAWS. 181 
 
 was generally thought impossible, and was wholly de- 
 spaired of even by those who were most clearly convin- 
 ced of their moral and political obligation. These 
 things, too, were not done on any mean stage, but in the 
 greatest empire of the world, and where the difficulties 
 were in proportion to the work. But how far does the 
 name of Peel justly occupy this honourable position ? 
 Was he the author of these three great acts ! Others, 
 indeed, originated and proposed, for they were freer to 
 originate, and it is always easy to gain the start of a 
 statesman more or less implicated in existing legislation 
 and encumbered by his supporters. But to confine 
 ourselves to Sir Robert's last and crowning achieve- 
 ment, it must be said that while others advised the re- 
 peal of the Corn Laws when it was their interest to do 
 so, he was the first to propose it when every thing was 
 to be lost by it — when, in fact, he did lose every thing 
 by it. His was the risk, so he must be the renown. 
 His right is now proved, not by what he did, but by 
 what he suff"ered, and he is the confessed author of free 
 trade, because he has been a martyr to it. We cannol; 
 question the conscientious convictions of those who drove 
 Sir Robert from power, but in so doing they testify 
 that but for him the Corn Laws would not have been 
 repealed. 
 
 But these acts, great as they were, and insulated as 
 they seem, were only parts of a series, and by no means 
 the most laborious parts. The amelioration of our 
 criminal code, the reform of our police, the introduction 
 of simpler forms and more responsible management into 
 eveiy part of our administrative system, took up large 
 parts of Sir Robert's career, while there was not a sub- 
 
182 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 ject that could possibly come within his reach that he 
 did not grasp resolutely and well. We have had to 
 differ from him ; we do differ from him ; but we must 
 admit that no man ever undertook public affairs with 
 a more thorough determination to leave the institu- 
 tions of his country in an orderly, honest, and efficient 
 state. 
 
 But are we wholly to pass over the ambiguities of 
 this honourable career ? Must it be left to the future 
 historian to relate that when England lost her greatest 
 living statesman, there were points of his character too 
 tender to be touched, and that all parties agreed to slur 
 over what they could not all praise ? Surely not. 
 Truth is as sacred as the 'grave, and the grief confessed 
 by all may, perhaps, infuse new gravity and candour 
 into a painful discussion. Sir Robert, so it is said, be- 
 sides many smaller violences to the conscience of his 
 followers, twice signally betrayed them. Twice he 
 broke them up, and we now behold the result in a 
 smitten and divided party. They gave us the most un- 
 deniable proofs that their indignation is sincere. Suicide 
 is so frequent a form of indignant adjuration that we 
 cannot help respecting such an evidence of wrong. 
 But with the knell of departed greatness sounding in 
 our ear, it is time to view these acts by the hght of the 
 future. Posterity will ask, — Were they right or were 
 they wrong ? Our own answer shall be without hesita- 
 tion or reserve. They were among the most needful 
 and salutary acts that ever were given man to do. 
 Grant that Sir Robert compassed them unfairly, and it 
 must at least be admitted that he had a fine taste for 
 glory, and prized the gifts of heaven when he saw them. 
 
CHARGE OF DOUBLE-DEALING. 183 
 
 But is it possible that a man should do such deeds, and 
 a whole life full of them, and yet do them basely ? To 
 confess that were indeed a keen satire on man, if not a 
 presumptuous imputation on his Maker. But perhaps 
 there is some semblance of truth in it. Take, then, the 
 long list of earth's worthies from the beginning of story 
 to the present hour, and let us be candid with them. 
 It will not be easy to find many of that canonized 
 throng, whose patriotism has not been alloyed with 
 some baseness, who have not won triumphs with sub- 
 tlety, deceived nations to their good, countermined 
 against fraudful antagonists, or otherwise sinned against 
 their own greatness. But when we have employed 
 towards other men the candour imposed upon us in the 
 case of Sir Robert Peel, we find these imperfections 
 rather a condition of humanity than a fault of the indi- 
 vidual. Nearly all great things, even the greatest of 
 them, have been done in this earthly fashion. In the 
 language of purists all government is bad. Courts are 
 corrupt, and policy a word of opprobrium. An abstract 
 philosopher, indeed, can easily be abstractedly good, but 
 when once we have to deal with the human material, 
 there is no choice but to condescend. 
 
 But a charge so oft repeated, and so fixed upon the 
 man, demands a closer scrutiny. That charge is double- 
 dealing. It is not that Sir Robert was a "double- 
 minded man," and, therefore, "unstable in his ways," 
 but that he assembled his followers on one understand- 
 ing and used them for another ; or, to take a milder 
 supposition, that he gave way to a diff'erent set of im- 
 pulses, when on one side of the House, from those which 
 swayed him on the other. Some sort of doubleness is 
 
184 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 alleged, and some sort must be conceded, though it 
 may not be easily described.!' Sir Robert was one man 
 by parentage, education, friends, and almost every cir- 
 cumstance of his very early entrance into public life, 
 and another man by the workings of his great intellect, 
 the expansion of his sympathies, and his vast and varied 
 experience. /He was early taught to worship George 
 III., and to adore the very shadow of Pitt, for his fa- 
 ther published a pamphlet to prove that the National 
 Debt was a positive source of prosperity. From this 
 ultra-Tory household he passed to Harrow, where, as 
 the world knows, he was the contemporary of Byron, 
 of Aberdeen, and other great men ; but it Avas at Ox- 
 ford that he chiefly acquired confidence and fame. He 
 was the most distinguished son of that University, and 
 its most cherished representative. Thirty years ago 
 Peel was to do every thing for the Universities, the 
 Church of England, the aristocracy, and every man and 
 every thing that reposes under these institutions. The 
 only question was, whether he would stand by them — 
 whether he was staunch ; for in those days it was the 
 office of a statesman to do what he was bid. It is 
 enough for our present purpose to remind our readers 
 that he first took office under Perceval, continued un- 
 der Lord Liverpool, Eldon all the time being Lord 
 Chancellor ; that as Irish Secretary he was early pressed 
 into the service of the Orange party ; and that mean- 
 while old Sir Robert Peel, himself in Parliament, 
 showed a most amiable vigilance for the integrity of his 
 son's opinions. In fact, never was a rising young states- 
 man blessed with so many fathers and mothers, and 
 godfathers and godmothers. Tories and Orangemen, 
 
THE TYPE OF HIS GENERATION. 185 
 
 Oxford and the Churcli, Perceval and Lord Liver- 
 pool, Eldon, and we believe we must add Welling- 
 ton, with old Sir Robert, to hold all together, consti- 
 tuted a political nursery, in which it was scarcely pos- 
 sible to go wrong. Unfortunately for his numerous 
 patrons and advisers. Peel had something else in him 
 than a capacity for receiving nursery impressions. He 
 was a great man, and broke through his trammels, but 
 his life was spent in that long and painful struggle. 
 His affections, his friendships, his pledges and his 
 speeches, kept in record against him, held him back, 
 while his far-seeing and active solicitude for his country 
 drew him on. His life was one long contest, for warm 
 pledges are not easily broken, nor, on the other hand, 
 are deep convictions easily belied. But is it impossible 
 for a really honest man to suffer such a struggle ? All 
 history and every man's own experience will tell him 
 that it is not impossible. The larger a man's capacity, 
 and the kindlier his nature, the wider also will be his 
 sympathies ; and the more likely also will^ he be to 
 embrace and feel many conflicting considerations. His 
 heart may draw him one way and his reason another. 
 The influence of a sudden event, the force of some new 
 argument, the excitement of some discussion, the per- 
 suasion of some example may ever and anon take pos- 
 sesion of the imagination and senses, while the mind 
 within pursues its even tenor, finds out truth at last, 
 and then holds it fast. But the age wherein we live 
 is interested in vindicating the character of its own 
 statesmen. Be he double or single, Sir Robert Peel 
 was the type and representative of his generation. We 
 have lived in a period of transition, and Sir Robert 
 
186 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 has conducted us safely through it. England has 
 changed as well as he. 
 
 Sir Robert has died " in harness." He never sought 
 repose, and his almost morbid restlessness rendered him 
 incapable of enjoying it. His was a life of effort. The 
 maxim that if any thing is worth doing, it is worth do- 
 ing well, seemed ever present to his mind, so that every 
 thing he did or said was somewhat over-laboured. His 
 official powers, as some one said the other day, were 
 Atlantean, and his Ministerial expositions on the same 
 gigantic scale. There was an equal appeai-ance of ef- 
 fort, however, in his most casual remarks, at least when 
 in public, for he would never throw away a chance ; and 
 he still trusted to his industry rather than to his powers. 
 But a man whose life is passed in the service of the 
 public, and whose habits are Parliamentary or official, 
 is not to be judged by ordinary rules, for he can scarce- 
 ly fail to be cold, guarded, and ostentatious. What is 
 a senate but a species of theatre, where a part must be 
 acted, feelings must be expressed, and applause must be 
 won ? Undoubtedly the habit of political exhibition 
 told on Sir Robert's manner and style, and even on his 
 mind. His egotism was proverbial, but besides the ex- 
 cessive use of the first person, it occasionally betrayed 
 him into performances at variance both with prudence 
 and taste. His love of applause was closely allied to a 
 still more dangerous appetite for national prosperity, 
 without sufficient regard to its sources and permanence. 
 It was this that seduced him into encourao-ino', instead 
 of controlling the railway mania. Had the opportunity 
 been allowed, we are inclined to think he would have 
 falsified the common opinion as to his excessive discre- 
 
HIS LAST SPEECH. 
 
 187 
 
 tion, and astonished mankind with some splendid, if 
 successful, novelties. His style of speaking was admira- 
 bly adapted for its purpose, for it was luminous and 
 methodical, while his powerful voice and emphatic de- 
 Hvery gave almost too much assistance to his language, 
 for it was apt to be redundant and commonplace. He 
 had not that strong simplicity of expression which is 
 almost a tradition of the old Whig school, and is no 
 slight element of its power. We had almost omitted 
 Sir Robert's private character. This is not the place to 
 trumpet private virtues, which never shine better than 
 when they are really private. Suffice it to say that Sir 
 Robert was honoured and beloved in every relation of 
 private life. ■ 
 
 Such is the man, the statesman, and the patriot, 
 with his great virtues, and perhaps his little failings, that 
 has fallen at his post. Under Providence he has been 
 our chief guide from the confusions and darkness that 
 hung round the beginning of this century to the com- 
 paratively quiet haven in which we are now embayed. 
 Under the lamentable circumstances of his departure, 
 we again revert with renewed satisfaction to the speech 
 which, little as he thought it, was his farewell to the 
 nation. Not the least prominent or least pleasing por- 
 tion of that speech was its calm, retrospective, and con- 
 ciliatory character, and, in particular, the manner in 
 which he unconsciously took leave of the man, whose 
 policy he stood up to review, and who had entered 
 public life with him, under the same master, forty-one 
 years ago. Having in his introductory sentences de- 
 clared his cordial concurrence with many parts of the 
 Ministerial policy during their whole period of office, 
 
188 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 wlien he came at last to speak of the course recently 
 taken by our diplomacy, he observed, — " I have so little 
 disposition — and I say it with truth, for the feelings 
 which have actuated me for the last four years remain 
 unabated (hear, hear) — I have so little disposition, I 
 say, for entering into any angry or hostile controversy, 
 that I shall make no reference whatever to many of the 
 topics which were introduced into that most able and 
 most temperate speech, which made us proud of the 
 man who delivered it (loud and general cheering), and 
 in which he vindicated with becoming spirit, and with 
 an abihty worthy of his name and place, that course of 
 conduct which he had pursued. (Cheers.") The man 
 who said this had his heart in the right place, and no 
 reconciliation forced by the agonies, the terrors, or 
 the weakness of a deathbed ever exceeded the feeling of 
 that simple and spontaneous acknowledgment. Sir 
 Robert, it is a comfort to think, has left us with words 
 of peace and candour on his hps, and that same peace 
 and candour, we cannot help believing, will be awarded 
 to his memory by his own political opponents. 
 
BIOGRAPHY OF 
 
 SIE ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 In the following brief narrative of the principal facts in 
 the life of the great statesman who has just been 
 snatched from among iis, we must disclaim all inten- 
 tion of dealing with his biography in any searching or 
 ambitious spirit. The national loss is so great, the be- 
 reavement so sudden, that we cannot sit down calmly 
 either to eulogize or arraign the memory of the de- 
 ceased. We cannot forget that it was not a week ago 
 we were occupied in recording and commenting upon 
 his last eloquent address to that Assembly which had 
 so often listened with breathless attention to his states- 
 manlike expositions of pohcy. We freely confess, too, 
 that, however much under ordinary circumstances we 
 feel it our duty to be prepared with such information as 
 is most likely to interest the pubhc, the death of poor 
 Sir Robert Peel was an exceptional case. It was too re- 
 volting to prepare the biography of so "great a man 
 while he was yet alive — crushed and mangled indeed, 
 and with httle hope of recovery — but still alive. We 
 could do littie else when the mournful intelligence 
 reached us that Sir Robert Peel was no more, than 
 
190 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 pen a few expressions of sorrow and respect. Even 
 now the following imperfect record of facts, prepared, 
 as it has been, in the course of a few hours, must be 
 accepted as a poor substitute for the biography of that 
 great Enghshman, whose loss will be felt almost as a 
 private bereavement by every family throughout the 
 British Empire. 
 
 Sir Robert Peel was in the 63d year of his age, 
 having been born near Bury, in Lancashire, on the 5 th 
 of February, 1788. Ilis father was a manufacturer on 
 a grand scale, and a man of much natural ability, and 
 of almost unequalled opulence. Full of a desire to 
 render his son and probable successor worthy of the in- 
 fluence and the vast wealth which he had to bestow, 
 the first Sir Robert Peel took the utmost pains person- 
 ally with the early training of the future Prime Minis- 
 ter. He retained his son under his own immediate 
 superintendence, until he arrived at a sufficient age to 
 be sent to Harrow. Mr. Robert Peel went to Harrow 
 certainly a ready recipient of scholarship, but by no 
 means an advanced schoolboy. From the outset he 
 was assiduous, docile, and submissive, yet in the prompt 
 and vigorous performance of school duties he lagged 
 for a time behind boys who in every thing but expe- 
 rience were infinitely his inferiors. This, however, was 
 only a temporary check at the threshold of a great ca- 
 reer. He advanced rapidly and securely, and soon left 
 all competition in the rear; but he wanted the animal 
 energy and buoyancy of spirit which give pre-emi- 
 nence out of school. Lord Byron, his contemporary 
 at Harrow, was a better declaimer and a more amusing 
 actor, but in sound learning and laborious application 
 
AT SCHOOL. 191 
 
 to school duties young Peel had no equal. So marked 
 was his superiority in these respects that the unani- 
 mous opinion of the little senate to which he then gave 
 laws was, that he could not fail to be a Cabinet Minis- 
 ter at an early age. Masters and scholars shared this 
 sentiment. He had scarcely completed his sixteenth 
 year when he left Harrow and became a gentleman 
 commoner of Christ Church, Oxford, where he took the 
 degree of A. B., in Michaelmas Term, 1808, with un- 
 precedented distinction. Advisedly it may be said 
 that his success was unprecedented, for the present 
 system of examination being then new, no man before 
 his time ever took the honours of a double first class — 
 first in classics, first in mathematics. It did so happen 
 that Mr. Peel was the first recipient of that much- 
 prized object of youthful ambition. 
 
 The year 1809 saw him attain his majority, and 
 saw him also take his seat in the House of Commons 
 as member for the ancient city of Cashel, in the county 
 of Tipperary — a place not then returning the nominee 
 of the popular party in Ireland, but the man who, on 
 account of party interests or other considerations, 
 could find favour in the sight of Mr. Richard Pennefa- 
 ther, who, in the phraseology of that day, " had the 
 patronage of Cashel." Whether similarity of opinion 
 in matters political, or a more direct influence, may 
 have led to Mr. Peel's being member for Cashel, one 
 need not at this distance of time too minutely inquire. 
 Whatever may have been the consideration, the twelve 
 voters of Cashel (then the only electors in that city) 
 enjoyed his first services in Parliament, and continued 
 to call him their member till the general election in 
 
192 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 1812, when he came in for Chippenham, a Wiltshire 
 borough, where he acquired — probably by means simi- 
 lar to those used at Cashel — the honour of a seat in 
 Parliament. The main difference between the two 
 boroughs consisted in the fact that in the former case 
 he had only 12 constituents, in the latter 135. 
 
 The first Sir Robert Peel had long been a member 
 of the House of Commons, and the early efforts of his 
 son in that ' assembly were regarded with considerable 
 interest not only on account of his University reputa- 
 tion, but also because he was the son of such a father. 
 He did not, however, begin public life by staking his 
 fame on the results of one elaborate oration ; on the 
 contrary, he rose now and then on comparatively un- 
 important occasions; made a few brief modest remarks, 
 stated a fact or two, explained a difficulty when he hap- 
 pened to understand the matter in hand better than 
 others, and then sat down without taxing too se- 
 verely the patience or good-nature of an auditory ac- 
 customed to great performances. Still in the second 
 year of his Parliamentary course he ventured to make 
 a set speech, when, at the commencement of the session 
 of 1810, he seconded the address in reply to the King's 
 speech. Thenceforward for 19 years a more highflying 
 Tory than Mr. Peel was not to be found within the 
 walls of Parliament. Lord Eldon applauded him as a 
 young and vahant champion of those abuses in the 
 State which were then fondly called "the institutions 
 of the country ;" Lord Sidmouth regarded him as his 
 rightful political heir, and even the Duke of Cumber- 
 land patronized Mr. Peel. He further became the fa- 
 vourite eleve of Mr. Perceval, then first Lord of the 
 
SECRETAKY IN IRELAND. 193 
 
 Treasury, and entered office as Under-Secretary for the 
 Home Department. Mr. Richard Ryder, uncle of the 
 present Earl of Harrowby, was at that time the princi- 
 pal Secretary. He continued in the Home Department 
 for two years, not often speaking in Parliament, but 
 rather qualifying himself for those prodigious labours 
 in debate, in council, and in office, which it has since 
 been his lot to encounter and perform. 
 
 In the month of May, 1812, Mr. Perceval fell by 
 the hand of an assassin, and the composition of the 
 Ministry necessarily underwent a great change. The 
 result, so far as Mr. Peel was concerned, was that he 
 was appointed Chief Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant 
 of Ireland. This was an office which in those days, 
 and long afterwards, it was the practice of successive 
 Governments to confer upon the most promising of the 
 youthful membei-s of their party. Mr. Peel had only 
 reached his 24th year when, in the month of Septem- 
 ber, 1812, the duties of that anxious and laborious po- 
 sition were intrusted to his hands. The late Duke of 
 Richmond held the office of Viceroy, and Mr. Vesey 
 Fitzgerald, afterwards Lord Fitzgerald, that of Chan- 
 cellor of the Exchequer for Ireland. The Legislative 
 Union was then but lately consummated, and the de- 
 mand for Catholic emancipation had given rise to an 
 agitation of only very recent date. But in proportion 
 to its novelty so was its vigour. Mr. Peel was, there- 
 fore, as the. representative of the old Tory Protestant 
 school, called upon to encounter a storm of un])opu- 
 larity such as not even an Irish Secretary has ever been 
 exposed to. No term of reproach was too strong ; no 
 amount of obloquy considered disproportioned to the 
 9 
 
194 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 high enormities which the Roman Catholic party 
 charged upon him whom they would never call by any 
 other aj^pellation than " Orange Peel.". That he bore 
 it all with becoming fortitude, and resented it as often 
 as it was safe to do so, is no more than the subsequent 
 course of his life would lead one to exi>ect. But be 
 sometimes went a little further, and condescended per- 
 sonally to take notice of the offensive violence which 
 marked the course of Irish opposition. The late Mr. 
 O'Connell at various public meetings, and in various 
 forms, through the agency of the press, poured forth 
 upon Mr. Peel a torrent of invective, which went be- 
 yond even his extraordinary performances in the sci- 
 ence of scolding. At length he received from Mr. Peel 
 a communication in the shape of a hostile message. 
 Sir Charles Saxton, who was Under-Secretary in Ire- 
 land, had an interview first with Mr. O'Connell and af- 
 terwards with a friend of that gentleman, a Mr Lidwell. 
 Negotiations went on for three or four days, Avhen Mr. 
 O'Connell was taken into custody and bound over to keep 
 the peace towards all his fellow-subjects in Ireland. 
 Mr. Peel and his friend immediately came to this coun- 
 try, and subsequently proceeded to the continent. Mr. 
 O'Connell followed them to London, but the police 
 were active enough to bring him before the Chief 
 Justice of England, when he entered into recognizances 
 to keep the peace towards all His Majesty's subjects ; 
 and so .ended one of the few personal squabbles in 
 which Mr. Peel had ever been engaged. For six years 
 he held the office of Chief Secretary to the Lord-Lieu- 
 tenant, at a time when the government was conducted 
 upon what might be called " anti-conciliation prin- 
 
IRISH ADMINISTRATION. 195 
 
 ciples." The opposite course was commenced by Mr. 
 Peel's immediate successor, Mr. Charles Grant, now 
 Lord Glenelg. That a Chief Secretary so circum- 
 stanced, struggling to sustain extreme Orangeism in its 
 dying agonies, should have been called upon to encoun- 
 ter great toil and anxiety, is a truth too obvious to need 
 illustration. That in these straits Mr. Peel acquitted 
 himself with infinite address was as readily acknow- 
 ledged at that time as it has ever been even in the zenith 
 of his fame. He introduced and defended many Irish 
 measures, including some peace-preservation bills. The 
 establishment of the constabulary force in that country 
 has, however, been amongst the most permanent re- 
 sults of his administration. It is, moreover, one which 
 may be considered as the experimental or preliminary 
 step to the introduction of that system of metropolitan 
 police, which gives security to person and property 
 amidst the congregated millions of the vast cluster of 
 cities, boroughs, and villages which we call " London," 
 and which has since been extended to every consider- 
 able provincial town. The minor measures of Sir 
 Robert Peel's administration in Ireland possess, at this 
 distance of time, but few features of interest to readers 
 who live in the year 1850. He held office in that 
 country under three successive Viceroys, the Duke of 
 Richmond, Earl Whitworth, and Earl Talbot, all of 
 whom have long since passed away from this life, their 
 names and their deeds alike forgotten. But the history 
 of their Chief Secretary happens not to have been com- 
 posed of such perishable materials, and we now ap- 
 proach one of the most memorable passages of his 
 eventful career. He was Chairman of the great Bui- 
 
196 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 lion Committee ; but before he engaged in that stupen- 
 dous task he had resigned the Chief-Secretaryship of 
 Ireland. As a consequence of the report of that com- 
 mittee, he took charge of and introduced the bill for 
 authorizing a return to cash payments which bears his 
 name, and which measure received the sanction of Par- 
 liament in the year 1819. That measure brought upon 
 Mr. Peel no slight or temporary odium. The first Sir 
 Eobert Peel was then alive, and altogether differed 
 from his son as to the tendency of his measure. It 
 was roundly asserted at the time, and very faintly de- 
 nied, that it rendered that gentleman a more wealthy 
 man, by something hke half a million sterhng, than he 
 had previously been. The deceased statesman, how- 
 ever, must in common justice be acquitted of any sin- 
 ister purpose. 
 
 This narrative now reaches the year 1820, when we 
 have to relate the only domestic event in the history of 
 Sir Robert Peel which requires notice. On the 8th of 
 June, at Upper Seymour-street, London, being then in 
 the 33d year of his age, he married Julia, daughter of 
 General Sir John Floyd, who had then attained the age 
 of 25. 
 
 Two years afterwards there was a lull in public af- 
 fairs, which gave somewhat the appearance of tranquil- 
 lity ; Lord Sidmouth was growing old, he thought that 
 his system was successful, and that at length he might 
 find repose. He considered it then consistent with his 
 public duty to consign to younger and stronger hands 
 the seals of the Home Department. He accepted a 
 seat in the Cabinet without office, and continued to 
 give his support to Lord Liverpool, his ancient political 
 
IN PARLIAMENT. 197 
 
 chief. Ill permitting his mantle to fall upon Mr. Peel, 
 he thought he was assisting to invest with authority- 
 one whose views and policy were as narrow as his own, 
 and whose practice in carrying them out would be not 
 less rigid and uncompromising. But, like many others, 
 he lived long enough to be grievously disappointed by 
 the subsequent career of him whom the Liberal party 
 have since called " the great Minister of progress," and 
 whom their opponents have not scrupled to designate 
 by appellations- too harsh to be repeated in these hours 
 of sorrow and bereavement. On the 17th January, 
 1822, Mr. Peel was installed at the head of the Home 
 Department, where he remained undisturbed till the 
 political demise of Lord Liverpool in the spring of 
 1827. And here for a moment the narrative of his 
 official life may be interrupted, in order to remind the 
 reader that he did not always represent in Parliament 
 such insignificant places as Cashel and Chippenham. 
 The most distinguished man that has filled the Chair 
 of the House of Commons in the present century was 
 Charles Abbott, afterwards Lord Colchester. In the 
 summer of 1817 this gentleman had » completed 16 
 years of hard service in that most eminent office, and 
 he had represented the University of Oxford for 11 
 years. His valuable labours having been rewarded 
 with a pension and a peerage, he took his seat, full of 
 yea-rs and honours, among the hereditary legislators of 
 the land, and left a vacancy in the representation of his 
 alma maier^ which Mr. Peel, above all living men was 
 deemed the most fitting person to occupy. At that 
 time he was an intense Tory — or as the Irish called 
 him, an Orange Protestant of the deepest dye — one 
 
198 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 prepared to make any sacrifice for the maintenance of 
 Churcli and State as established by the Revolution of 
 1688. Who, therefore, so fit as he to represent the 
 loyalty, learning, and orthodoxy of Oxford ? To have 
 done so had been the object of Mr. Canning's young 
 ambition, but in 181*7 he could not be so ungrateful 
 to Liverpool as to reject its representation even for the 
 early object of his Parliamentary affections. Mr. Peel, 
 therefore, was returned in the month of June, without 
 opposition, for that constituency which many consider 
 the most important in the land — a constituency with 
 which Mr. Peel remained on the best possible terms for 
 an unbroken period of 12 years. The question of the 
 repeal of the penal laws affecting the Roman Catholics, 
 which severed so many political connexions, was, how- 
 ever, destined to separate Mr. Peel from Oxford. In 
 the year 1828 rumours of the coming change were 
 rife, and many expedients were devised to extract from 
 Mr. Secretary Peel his opinions on the Catholic ques- 
 tion. But with the impenetrable reserve which ever 
 marked his character he baffled inquiry and left all cu- 
 riosity at fault. At last the hard necessities of the 
 Government rendered further concealment impossible, 
 and out came the frightful truth that Mr. Peel was no 
 longer an Orangeman. The ardent friends who had 
 frequently supported his Oxford elections, and the hot 
 partisans who shouted " Peel and Protestantism" at 
 the Brunswick Clubs, reviled him for his defection in 
 no measured terms. On the 4th of February, 1829, 
 he addressed a letter to the Vice-Chancellor of Oxford, 
 stating in many well-turned phrases that the Catholic 
 question must be forthwith adjusted, under advice in 
 
RETURNED FOR WEbTBURV. 199 
 
 which he concurrea ; and that, therefore, he considered 
 himself bound to resign that trust which the University 
 had during so many years confided to his hands. Mr. 
 Peel's resignation was accepted; but as the avowed 
 purpose of that important step was to give to his con- 
 stituents an opportunity of pronouncing an opinion 
 upon a change of poUcy, he merely accepted the Chil- 
 tern Hundreds with the intention of immediately be- 
 coming a candidate for that seat in Parliament which 
 he had just vacated. At this election Mr. Peel was 
 opposed by Sir Robert Inglis, who was elected by 155 
 to 609. Mr. Peel was therefore obhged to cast himself 
 on the favour of Sir Mannasseh Lopez, who returned 
 him for the borough of Westbury in Wiltshire, which 
 undignified constituency he continued to represent dur- 
 ing two years, until at the general election in 1830, 
 he was chosen for Tamworth, in the representation 
 for which borough he has continued for exactly 20 
 years. 
 
 The main feature of his official life still remains to 
 be noticed. With the exception of Lord Palmerston, no 
 statesman of modern times has spent so many years in 
 the civil service of the Crown as Sir Robert Peel. If no 
 account be taken of the short time he was engaged upon 
 the Bullion Committee, in efi'ecting the change in the 
 currency, and in opposing for a few months the Ministries 
 of Mr. Canning and Lord Goderich, it may be stated 
 that from 1810 to 1830 he formed part of the Govern- 
 ment, and presided over it as First Minister in 1834-5, 
 as well as from 1841 to 1846 inclusive. During the 
 time that he held the office of Home Secretary, under 
 Lord Livei'pool, he effected many important changes 
 
200 SIR ROBERT PEEL, 
 
 in the administration of domestic affairs, and many 
 legislative improvements of a practical and comprehen- 
 sive character. But his fame as a member of Parlia- 
 ment was principally sustained at this period of his life 
 by the extensive and admirable alterations which he 
 effected in the criminal law. Romily and Mackintosh 
 had preceded him in the great work of reforming and 
 humanizing the code of England. For his hand, how- 
 ever, was reserved the introduction of ameliorations 
 which they had long toiled and struggled for in vain. 
 The Ministry, through whose influence he was enabled 
 to carry these salutary reforms, lost its chief in the per- 
 son of Lord Livei-pool, during the early part of the year 
 1827. When Mr. Canning undertook to form a govern- 
 ment, Mr. Peel, the late Lord Eldon, the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, and other eminent Tories of that (lay, threw up 
 office, and are said to have persecuted Mr. Cnnnino- with 
 a degree of rancour far outstripping the legitimate 
 bounds of political hostility. At least those were the 
 sentiments expressed by some of the less discreet friends 
 of Mr. Canning. It was certainly the opinion held by 
 the late Lord George Bentinck, when he said that 
 " they hounded to death my illustrious relative ;" and 
 the ardour of his subsequent opposition to Sir Robert 
 Peel evidently derived its intensity from a long cherished 
 sense of the injuries supposed to have been inflicted 
 upon Mr. Canning. In the language of Lord George 
 Bentinok, and in that of many others who had not the 
 excuse of private friendship, there was much of exagge- 
 ration, if not of absolute error. It is the opinion of 
 men not ill informed respecting the sentiments of Can- 
 ning, that he considered Peel as his true political sue- 
 
THE WELLINGTON MINISTRY. 201 
 
 cesser — as a statesman competent to the task of work- 
 ing out that large and liberal policy which he 
 fondly hoped the Tories might, however tardily, be 
 induced to sanction. At all events, he is believed not 
 to have entertained towards Mr. Peel any personal hos- 
 tility, and to have stated during his short-lived tenure 
 of office that that gentleman was the only member of 
 his party who had not treated him with ingratitude and 
 unkindness. 
 
 In the month of January, 1828, the Wellington 
 Ministry took oflSce and held it till November, 1830. 
 Mr. Peel's reputation suffered during this period very 
 rude shocks. He gave up, as already stated, his anti- 
 Catholic principles, lost the force of twenty years' con- 
 sistency, and under unheard of disadvantages introduced 
 the very measure he had spent so many years in oppos- 
 ing. The debates upon Catholic Emancipation, which 
 preceded the great Reform question, constituted a period 
 in the life of Sir Robert Peel, which, twenty years ago, 
 every one would have considered its chief and promi- 
 nent feature. There can be no doubt that the course 
 he then adopted, demanded greater moral courage than 
 at any previous period of his life he had been called 
 upon to exercise. He beheved himself incontestably in 
 the right ; he believed, with the Duke of Wellington, 
 that the danger of civil war was imminent, and that 
 such an event was immeasurably a greater evil than 
 surrendering the boasted constitution of 1688. But he 
 was called upon to snap asunder a Parliamentary con- 
 nexion of twelve years with a great University, in which 
 the most interesting period of his youth had been 
 passed ; he was called upon to encounter the reproaches 
 9* 
 
202 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 of adherents, whom he had often led in well-fought con- 
 tests against the advocates of what was termed " civil 
 and religious liberty;" he had further to tell the world, 
 that the character of public men for consistency, how- 
 ever precious, is not to be directly opposed to the com- 
 mon weal; and to communicate to many the novel, 
 as well as unpalatable, truth, that what they deemed 
 " principle" must give way to what he called " expe- 
 diency." It is to be expected, however, that posterity 
 will do him the justice to acknowledge that, if he ac- 
 complished much, he suflered much in the performance 
 of what he believed to be his highest duties. 
 
 When he ceased to be a Minister of the Crown, 
 that general movement throughout Europe which suc- 
 ceeded the deposition of the elder branch of the 
 Bourbons rendered Parliamentary reform as unavoid- 
 able as two years previously Catholic emancipation 
 had been. He opposed this change, no doubt with 
 increased knowledge and matured talents, but with im- 
 paired influence and few Parhamentary followers. The 
 history of the reform debates will show that Mr. 
 (then Sir Robert) Peel made many admirable speeches 
 which served to raise his reputation, but never for 
 a moment turned the tide of fortune against his ad- 
 versaries, and in the first session of the first reformed 
 Parliament he found himself at the head of a party 
 that in numbers httle exceeded one hundred. As soon 
 as it was practicable he rallied his broken forces ; either 
 he or some of his political friends gave them the name 
 of " Conservatives," and it required but a short interval 
 of reflection and observation to prove to his sagacious 
 intellect that the period of reaction was at hand. Every 
 
SUMMONED FROM ITALY. 203 
 
 engine of party organization was put into vigorous ac- 
 tivity, and before the summer of 1834 reached its close 
 he was at the had of a compact, powerful, and well- 
 disciplined Opposition. Such a high impression of 
 their vigour and eflSciency had King William IV. re- 
 ceived, that when, in November, Lord Althorp became 
 a peer, and the Whigs therefore lost their leader in the 
 House of Commons, His Majesty sent to Italy to sum- 
 mon Sir Robert Peel to his councils with a view to the 
 immediate formation of a Conservative Ministry. Sir 
 Robert accepted this heavy responsibility, though he 
 thought that the King had grievously mistaken the 
 condition of the country and the chances of success 
 which awaited his political friends. A new House of 
 Commons was instantly called, and for nearly three 
 months Sir Robert Peel maintained a gallant struggle 
 against the most formidable opposition that for nearly a 
 century past any Minister has been called upon to en- 
 counter. At no time did his command of temper, 
 his almost exhaustless resources of information, his 
 vigorous and comprehensive intellect appear to create 
 such astonishment or draw forth expressions of such 
 unbounded admiration as in the early part of the year 
 1835. But, after a well-fought contest, he retired once 
 more into opposition till the close of the second Mel- 
 bourne Administration in 1841. It was in the month of 
 April, 1835, that Lord Melbourne was restored to 
 power, but the continued enjoyment of office did not 
 much promote the political interests of his party, and 
 from various causes the power of the Whigs began to 
 decline. The commencement of a new reign gave 
 them some popularity, but in the new House of Com- 
 
204 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 mons, elected in consequence of that event, the Conser- 
 vative party were evidently gaining strength ; still, 
 after the failure of 1834-5, it was no easy task to dis- 
 lodge an existing Ministry, and at the same time to be 
 prepared with a Cabinet and a party competent to suc- 
 ceed them. Sir Robert Peel, therefore, with character- 
 istic caution, " bided his time," conducting the business 
 of Opposition throughout the whole of this period with 
 an ability and success of which history affords few ex- 
 amples. He had accepted the Reform Bill as the 
 established law of England, and as the system upon 
 which the country was thenceforward to be governed. 
 He was willing to carry it out in its true spirit, but he 
 would proceed no further. He marshalled his Opposi- 
 tion upon the principle of resistance to any further or- 
 ganic changes, and he enlisted the majority of the 
 peers and nearly the whole of the country gentlemen 
 of England in support of the great principle of protec- 
 tion to British industry. The little manoeuvres and 
 small political intrigues of the period are almost for- 
 gotten, and the remembrance of them is scarcely worthy 
 of revival. It may, however, be mentioned that in 
 1839 Ministers, being left in a minority, resigned, and 
 Sir Robert Peel, when sent for by the Queen, demand- 
 ed that certain ladies in the household of Her Majesty, 
 — the near relatives of eminent "Whig politicians, — 
 should be removed from the personal service of the 
 Sovereign. As this was refused, he abandoned for 
 the time any attempt to form a Government, and his 
 opponents remained in office till September, 1841. It 
 was then Sir Robert Peel became First Lord of the 
 Treasury, and the Duke of Wellington, without office, 
 
FREE TRADE DOCTRINES. 205 
 
 accepted a seat in the Cabinet, taking the management 
 of the House of Lords. His Ministry was formed 
 emphatically on Protectionist principles, but the close 
 of its career was marked by the adoption of free 
 trade doctrines in the widest and most liberal sense. 
 We do not here propose to re-open a question already 
 decided, but to record the fact that Sir Robert Peel's 
 sense of public duty impelled him once more to incur 
 the odium and obloquy which attend a fundamental 
 change of policy, and a repudiation of the political par- 
 tisans by whose ardent support a Minister may have 
 attained office and authority. It was his sad fate to 
 encounter more than any man ever did of that most 
 painful hostility which such conduct, however neces- 
 sary, never fails to produce. This great change in our 
 commercial policy, however unavoidable, must be re- 
 garded as the proximate cause of Sir Robert Peel's final 
 expulsion from office in the month of July, 1846. His 
 administration, however, had been signalized by several 
 measures of great political importance. Among the 
 earliest and most prominent of these were his financial 
 plans, the striking feature of which was an income-tax ; 
 greatly extolled for the exemption it aff'orded from other 
 burdens pressing more severely on industry, but loudly 
 condemned for its irregular and unequal operation, 3 
 vice which has since rendered its contemplated increase 
 impossible. 
 
 Of the Ministerial life of Sir Robert Peel little more 
 remains to be related, except that which properly be- 
 longs rather to the history of the country than to his 
 individual biography. But it would be unjust to the 
 memory of one of the most sagacious statesmen thatEng- 
 
206 SIR ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 land ever produced, to deny that his latest renunciation 
 of political principles required but two short years to 
 attest the vital necessity of that unqualified surrender. 
 If the corn laws had been in existence at the period 
 when the political system of the Continent was shaken 
 to its centre and dynasties crumbled into dust, a ques- 
 tion would have been left in the hands of the demo- 
 cratic party of England, the force of which neither skill 
 nor influence could then have evaded. Instead of bro- 
 ken friendships, shattered reputations for consistency, 
 or diminished rents, the whole realm of England might 
 have borne a fearful share in that storm of wreck and re- 
 volution which had its crisis on the 10th of April, 1848. 
 \ In the course of his long and eventful life many ho- 
 nours were conferred upon Sir Robert Peel. Wherever 
 he went, and almost at all times, he attracted universal 
 attention, and was always received with the- highest 
 consideration. At the close of the year 1836, the Uni- 
 versity of Glasgow elected him their Lord liector; and 
 the Conservatives of that city in January, 1837, invited 
 him to a banquet at which 3,000 gentlemen assembled 
 to do honour to their great political chief. But this 
 was only one among many occasions on which he was 
 " the great guest." I'erhaps the most remarkable of 
 these banquets was that given to him in 1835, at 
 Merchant Tailors' Hall, by 300 members of the House 
 of Commons. Many other circumstances might be 
 related to illustrate the high position which Sir Robert 
 Peel occupied iti this country. Anecdotes innumerable 
 might be recorded to show the extraordinary influence 
 ill Parliament which mude him "the great commoner" 
 of the age ; for Sir Robert l*eel was not only a skili'ul 
 
SUMMARY. 20V 
 
 and adroit debater, but by many degrees the most able 
 and one of the most eloquent men in either house of 
 Parliament. Nothing could be more stately or im- 
 posing than the long array of sounding periods in 
 which he expounded his doctrines, assailed his political 
 adversaries, or vindicated his own policy. But when 
 the whole land laments his loss, when England mourns 
 the untimely fate of one of her noblest sons, the task of 
 critical disquisition upon literary attainments or public 
 oratory possesses little attraction. It may be left for 
 calmer moments, and a more distant time, to investi- 
 gate with unforgiving justice the sources of his errors, 
 or to estimate the precise value of services which the 
 public is now disposed to regard with no other feehngs 
 than those of unmingled gratitude. 
 
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 ESSAYS : A SERIES OF PERSONAL AND HISTORICAI. 
 
 SKETCHES FROM THE LONDON TIMES. 
 LIFE AND MISCELLANIES OF THEODORE HOOK. 
 JOHN FORSTER'S LIFE OF GOLDSMITH. 
 THE YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS AND OTHER VOLUMES^ 
 
 BY WILLIAM M. THACKERAY, AUTHOR OF "VAN- 
 ITY FAIR." 
 JEREMY TAYLOR; A BIOGRAPHY, BY ROBERT AR13 
 
 WILLMOTT. 
 LEIGH HUNT'S BOOK FOR A CORNER. 
 THE MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS OF JAAIES AND 
 
 HORACE SMITH, THE AUTHORS OF THE "RE 
 
 JECTED ADDRESSES." 
 THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS, BY BARHAM. 
 LITTLE PEDLINGTON AND THE PEDLINGTONUNS 
 
 BY JOHN POOLE, AUTHOR OF "PAUL PRY." 
 (fee., <fec., &c 
 
A D VE RTISEME NTB. 
 
 APPLETOKS' POPULAR LIBRAEY. 
 ESSAYS FROM THE LONDON TIMES. 
 
 Price Fifty Cents. 
 Containing tlie following Papers : 
 
 LOED NELSON AND LADY HAMILTON. 
 
 EAIL^VAT NOVELS. 
 
 LOUIS PHILIPPE AND HIS FAMILY. 
 
 DEAMA OF THE FEENOH EEVOLUTION. 
 
 HOWAED THE PHILANTHEOPIST. 
 
 EOBEET SOUTHEY. 
 
 THE AMOUES OF DEAN SWIFT. 
 
 EEMINISOENOES OF OOLEEIDGK AND SOUTHEY BY COTTLE. 
 
 JOHN e:eats. 
 
 8P0ETING IN AFEIOA. 
 FEANCIS CHANTEEY. 
 ancient EGYPT. 
 
 Brilliant original Essays, frequently displaying the neat humor of a 
 Bydney Smith, the glowing narrative sweep of a Macaulay. These Essays 
 exhibit a variety of treatment, and «re models of their class. The sketch 
 of the French Kevolution of 1848, and the paper on the Amours of Dean 
 S^\^ft, are masterpieces in their different ways ; the one as a forcibly painted 
 picturesque panormna of startling events, the other as a subtle investigation 
 of character. The story of Lord Nelson's Lady Hamilton is an example of 
 pathos, where the interest grows out of a clear, firmly presented statement 
 Tlie paper on Egypt is an admirable resume of the results of Antiquarian 
 study in a style at onco learned and popular. 
 
ADVERTISEMENTS. 
 
 APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY. 
 THE YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS. 
 
 BY W. M. THACKERAY. 
 
 Price Fifty Cents. 
 
 Contents. 
 
 MISS SnUM's HUSBAND. 
 
 THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCE ACE. 
 
 SKIMMINGS FROM " THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV." 
 
 FORING PARTS. 
 
 MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 
 
 MR. YELLOWPLUSn's AJEW. 
 
 EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 
 
 The Yellowplush Papers, a work at the fouudation of Mr. ThacKeray s 
 fame as a writer, appeared in a London edition in 1841, collected from the 
 pages of Fraser's Ifagazine. An imperfect collection, long since out of 
 print, had previously been published in Philadelphia. 
 
 It is now revived, in connection with a number of the author's miscel- 
 laneous Writings, which will appear in due succession, for its speciality of 
 thought and character, and its exhibition of those fruitful germs of senti- 
 ment and observation which have expanded into the pictures of modern 
 society, read throughout the world, in the pages of "Vanity Fair" and 
 "Pendennis." In its peculiar line the Yellowplush Papers have nevei 
 been surpassed. The character is well preserved and unique as the spell- 
 ing, which shows that there is a genius even for cacography, and a scnti- 
 nicnt as well as a hearty laugh in a wrong combination of letters. It is im- 
 ]>ossible to resist the infelicity of Mr. Yellowplush. His humor, too, is a 
 firetty serious test of the ways of the world, and profit, as well as amuse- 
 ment, may be got from his epistles, justifying the remark of an English 
 oritic, that "notwithstanding the bad spelling and mustard-colored un- 
 mentionables of Mr. Yellowplush, he is fift}' times more of a gentleman 
 th»n most of his masters." 
 
ADVERTISEMENTS. 
 
 APPLETONS' POPTJLAE LIBEARY. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF A JOURNEY THROUGH 
 
 T/UITARY, THIBET, AND CHINA, DURING 
 
 THE YEARS 1844, 1845, and 1846. 
 
 BY M. HUC, MISSIONARY PRIEST OF THE CONGREGATION 
 OF ST. LAZARUS. 
 
 A CONDENSED TRANSLATION BY MEft, PERCY 8INNETT. 
 
 Two Volumes, 16?no., Fancy Cloth. Price Fifty Cents each. 
 
 This narrative, related with great interest and simplicity— adding to our 
 original stores of information with the piquancy of an Arabian Tale— is the 
 story of a long journey and circuit of Chinese Tartary to the capital of Thi- 
 bet, with a forced return to the Chinese Territory, performed by a Roman 
 Catholic Missionary, and his assistant M. Gabet, delegated, itpon the break 
 ing up of the Pekin Mission, to the exploration of what is rather hypotheti 
 cally called the Apostolical Vicariat of Mongolia. On their route every 
 where is novelty, danger and excitement— fresh scenery, fresh adventure, 
 with religious rites and manners and customs, now for the first time so fully 
 described, and which, it may be remarked, at times appeal net merely to 
 our love of intelligence, but to our love of the marvellous. 
 
 The English Review speaks of " M. Hue's graphic pages" and remarks, 
 '•'the labours of Messrp, Hue and Gabet have extended very considerably 
 the existing amount of knowledge of those remote regions of inner Asia." 
 
 Blackwood's MagaziAie, summing up the results of those and other re- 
 searches in an article "Tibet and the Lamas," says of these missionaries— 
 '•they have given us a most readable and interesting personal narrative of a 
 life of continued hardships, and of frequent suffering and danger in remote 
 M gions, the routes through which were partly never before recorded in d&- 
 tall, and partly never before trodden by any European." 
 
 The London Daily ITeics pronounces M. Hue " a most agreeable nan-a 
 toi. "We ^ve our readers a specimen of this really charming book, thougli 
 It is one which most of our readers will be sure to purchase and treasure up 
 for themselves. "We could fill columns with amusing extracts, but it is besi 
 to send our readers to the book itself. 
 
?-■ 
 
 ADVERTISEMENTS. 
 
 APPLETONS' POPULAE LIBRARY. 
 
 THE MAIDEN AND MARRIED LIFE OF 
 MARY POWELL, 
 
 AFTERWARDS MISTRESS MILTON. 
 Price Fifty Cents 
 
 "A reproduction "in their manners as they lived" of John Milton and 
 his young bride, of whom the anecdote of their separation and reconcilia- 
 tion is told in Dr. Johnson's biography of the poet. The narrative is in the 
 style of the period as the Diary of Lady Willoughby is written, and is re- 
 markable for its feminine grace and character— and the interest of real life 
 artistically disposed: a book for the selected shelf of the lady's boudoir in 
 its touches of nature and sentiment no less than as a study of one of Eng- 
 land's greatest poets " at home." 
 
 ENGLISH NOTICES. 
 
 "This is a charming book ; and whether we regard its subject, clever- 
 cess or delicacy of sentiment and expression, it is likely to be a most ac- 
 ceptable present to young or old, be their peculiar taste for religion, morals, 
 poetry, history, or romance." — Christian Observer. 
 
 " Unquestionably the production of an able hand, and a refined mind. 
 We recommend it to all Avho love pure, healthy literary fare." — Church 
 and State Gazette. 
 
 "Full of incident and character, and exceedingly delightful in its happy 
 sketching and freshness of feeling. It is by far the best work of the stiial' 
 and novel class to which it belongs, a mixture of truth and fiction in a tbnu 
 ^hich belongs to the fictitious more than to the substantial contents." — 
 blonconfortnixist. 
 
 "The odd history of Milton's first marriage — the desertion of his wile, 
 Hnd her subsequent terror when she heard that he was just the man to put 
 in practice his own opinions respecting divorce — forms one of tlioso chap- 
 lera, peculiarly open to iltiis^ratioii and faiicv."— /!</'/»• 
 
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