Vrot4 of JO Vukt of 113"rltington.

Tun Duke of Wellington died on Tuesday afternoon, at Widmer Castle The unexpected news reached London on the same evening, and, indeed, was communicated at once, by the great centres, throughout the country. The event was rather sudden, and at first it was only known that the Duke had expired in a species of "fit," which he was known to have undergone before. The accounts that came out next day were still very meagre; and it was not until Thursday- that the narrative of his last mo- ments, simple as it is, made its way into the public papers. We follow the version in the Times, with some additions. "Nothing had occurred in the usual state of his Grace's health to came serious uneasiness; though of course his age, and the attacks to which of late years he had been more than once exposed, rendered what has taken place extremely probable. Preserving to the last those temperate habits and that bodily activity for which he was so remarkably distinguished, on Monday he took his customary walk in the grounds attached to the Castle, inspected the stables, made many minute inquiries there, and gave directions with refer- ence to a journey to Dover on the following day, where Lady Westmoreland was expected to arrive on a visit to Wollner.

" lu other respects, the Duke's appetite had been observed to be keener than usual ; and some remarked that he looked pale while attending Divine ser- vice on Sunday ; but otherwise nothing had occurred to attract notice or to excite uneasiness, and after dining heartily on venison, he retired to rest on Monday night, apparently quite well. Lord and Lady Charles Wellesley were the only visitors at the Castle.

"Early on Tuesday morning, when Mr. Kendall, the valet, came to awake him, his Grace refused to get up, and desired that the 'apothecary' should be sent for immediately. In obedience to his master's orders, Mr. Kendall despatched a note to Mr. W. Hulke, surgeon at Deal, who has been attached to the family for many years, and whom he desired to repair at once to the Castle, and to make a secret of the summons. So great had for many years past been the public interest in the Duke's health, that rumours and fears mag- nified his most trifling ailments, and the news of ills desire for medical aid was consequently suppressed. Mr. Hulke hastened to the Castle, where he arrived at about nine o'clock. Ile found the Duke, to all appearance, suffering from indigestion, and complaining of pains in the chest and stomach. He was in the full possession of his faculties, and de- scribed his ailment very clearly. This his last conversation related en- tirely to his state of health • and so slight and seemingly harmless were the symptoms, that Mr. Hulie confined himself to prescribing some dry toast and tea. He departed, promising to call at about eleven o'clock, but at Lord Charles Wellesley's request he said he would come at ten. Mr. Hulke on leaving called upon Dr. M'Arthur, and told him what he had done ; which the latter approved of. Neither of the medical gentlemen appear to have been present when the fatal attack commenced,—an attack to which the Duke's constitution has for years been liable, and which, a year and a half ago, had been conquered by their successful treatment. His Grace, when seized, lost the power of speech and of consciousness. On the arrival of the medical attendants, emetics were administered ; which, however, pro- duced no effect. Every effort was used to afford relief, but in vain. His Grace was removed from bed into an arm-chair, where it was thought he would be more at ease; and the attendants of his dying moments stood in a group around him, watching the last efforts of expiring nature. On one aide were Lord Charles Wellesley and Dr. M'Arthur, on the other Mr_ Hulke and the valet. As the time passed on and no sign of relief was visible, telegraph messages were despatched, first for Dr. Hume, and then for Dr. Ferguson ; who, however, were unfortunately both out of town. Finally, Dr. Williams was sent for ; but he did not arrive at the Castle till eleven o'clock at night, when all earthly aid was useless. "The Duke's state gradually became more perilous ; and he suffered a third attack, still more severe than the preceding ones. When the members of his family and his medical attendants spoke to him, he appeared to be con- scious that they were addressing him and attempted to articulate a reply. His. answers, however, were not distinct enough to be intelligible ; and, indeed, not a syllable that he uttered from the moment when he ordered his apothecary to be seat fa- could be understood. About three o'clock he had a fourth and final attack, of redoubled intensity-, which rendered him perfectly insensible; and Hr. Hulke could only ascertain by the continued action of the pulse the existence of life. He felt it from time to time till about a quarter-past three; when he found that it had ceased to beat, and declared- that all was over. Dr. M'Arthur tried the other arm, and confirmed the fact; but Lord Charles Wellesley expressed his belief that the Duke still breathed, and a mirror was held to his mouth by the valet. The polished surface, however, remained undimmed; the great commander had departed without a struggle, or even a sigh to mark the exact moment when the vital spark was extinguished."

It is impossible even to sketch a biography such as Wellington's within the space of our columns. The utmost that we can do is to refresh the memory of the reader by glancing at the marked stages of his career ; and perhaps it will be useful to dwell upon those which are more remote and therefore more forgotten, rather than upon the greatest events, which are in the memory of all.

Born in Ireland, some time in the year 1769,—the precise day as well as the actual place being a matter of controversy,—Arthur Wesley was descended from two English families, the Westleys of Wellesleigh in Somersetshire, and the Colleys or Cowleys of Rutlandshire. Richard Col- ley was adopted by Garret Wesley of Dangan Castle, in the county of Meath ; and, succeeding to the Meath estates, was raised to the Peerage, by the title of Baron Mornington in 1746. His son, Garret Wesley, married Anne, daughter of the first Viscount Dungannon, and was ad- vanced to the Earldom of Mornington in 1760. These two had nine children ; of whom three afterwards rose to celebrity, one as the first Mar- quis Wellesley, another as Baron Cowley, and the third as Arthur Duke of Wellington. In 1781 Lord Mornington died, and Lady Mornington was left with a numerous family. Arthur was sent first to Eton, where he did not parti- cularly shine as a scholar ; next to a private tutor at Brighton; • and finally, as the bent of the boy's mind and the tendencies of his character were better known, to the military school at Angers, in what is now the De- partment of the Maine et Loire. Here he studied tactics and engineering according to the lights of the old school, under Pignerol, a name not un-

known to contemporary fame ; and here he acquired a knowledge of the French language destined to be a benefit in after days. Six years were spent at Angers : the boy grew towards man's estate, displaying no spe- cial genius as he verged upon his eighteenth year. But he had enjoyed advantages, not common, possibly, to those destined to be his comrades ; and he carried the fruits of discipline with him when, on returning to England, he entered the Army, as Ensign in the Seventy-third Regiment of Foot, on the 7th of March 1787.

He was now in a fair way for promotion. He had a spirit which led him onward, and he had friends to help him upward not destitute of pow- er. Whether those friends or his natural abilities most forced him onward in his early military career, and enabled him to rise from the position of a subaltern to that of a field-officer, is of little importance now. Probably both contributed their share ; and, by arguing backward from the known to the unknown, we may now safely infer at least that his talents were sufficient warrant for his rapid promotion. From the Seventy-third he passed into the Forty-first, and to the Twelfth Light Dragoons, succes- sively, in eighteen months. From the latter regiment he was promoted, on the 30th June 1791, to be Captain in the Fifty-eighth Foot ; again ex- changing the infantry for the cavalry service four months afterwards, by entering the Eighteenth Light Dragoons. He remained in this arm of the service until the 30th April 1793, when he became a Major ; and a few months later Lieutenant-Colonel of the Thirty-third,—a regiment which afterwards, under his guidance, was destined to do gallantly in India.

Meanwhile, he had been engaged in civil as well as military service. The Earl of Westmoreland, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, appointed Ar- thur Wellesley one of his Aides-de-camp ; and while in Ireland he was elected for the family borough of Trim, and sat in the Irish Parliament in 1790. The most remarkable thing recorded of him at this period is, that he voted for Catholic Emancipation in the Irish House of Commons ; and got deep in debt to Dublin tradesmen. Both these experiences taught him useful lessons : in after years, he, who had shown an early tendency not adverse to the Catholics, had a main hand in freeing them ; and he es- chewed debt, proscribing it both as regarded himself and others.

At the head of the Thirty-third--a position he owed to his brother the Marquis Wellesley—he embarked at Cork, in May 1794, for the Low Countries, to reinforce the army of the Duke of York, engaged in the ex- peditiOn which had so 'disastrous a termination. The French Republi- cans had severely beaten the army of the Duke of York, when Lord Moira with the reinforcement of which the Thirty-third formed a part arrived at Ostend. The force was landed, but the approach of Fiche- gru rendered a retreat necessary ; and Wellesley's regiment embarked while the French were at the very gates of the town. Colonel Wellesley took his regiment round by the Scheldt, and landed at Antwerp; whence he advanced to the Duke of York's head-quarters. This was in July 1794, when Wellesley was in his twenty-sixth year. The new troops helped to prevent the total destruction of the British forces, but no more. Wellesley was present at the actions fought on the line of retreat fol- lowed -by the Duke of York : in fact, he commanded the rear-guard; doing good service in repelling the enemy at Meteren, Druyten, and Gel- dermanseL Finally, the beaten army embarked for England at Bremer- lehe on the Weser, in 1795; and Wellesley returned to England, not altogether without distinction, certainly not without great experience from his first campaign. The Thirty-third landed at Harwiala ; and en- camped at Worley for a shcirt time, to refresh and strengthen the men. But in those stirring days, even the time necessary for rein' vigorating the troops could be barely allowed them; and in the autumn of 1795, Colo- nel 'Wellesley led his regiment to Southampton, destined to garrison the West Indies. Foul weather prevented the sailing of the fleet; and when spring came round, another order was received by Colonel Wellesley, and the weatherbeaten Thirty-third were sent to Bengal. At this critical mo- ment in the history of his life, however, the young soldier became sud- denly ill; his regiment set out without him; and he VMS unable to rejoin it until it had reached the Cape of Good Hope. In February 1797, Arthur Wellesley landed in Bengal; to commence in earnest that Indian career which laid the foundation-stone of his fortunes.

There was no tangible sign of war in our Indian. territories when Co- lonel Wellesley landed at Bengal. Hostilities were always probable then as they are now, only our foes in the East were more numerous and more powerful. The victories of Clive and Cornwallis had established our away; but there still remained vast territories only partially subdued ; there still remained the powerful lieutenants of the Great lilogul, the strong confederacy of the Mahratta chieftains, and the formidable re- sources of the fierce and daring Tippoo Sultan. The attitude of the last- named potentate was one of concealed hostility and chronic suspicion. French influence, although severely beaten in the person of Dupleix, was still in existence. Soon after the arrival of Colonel Wellesley in Bengal, Lord Mornington followed him as Governor-General ; and in 1798 the two brothers met in Calcutta. The principal risk of war was with Tip- poo. Oude had been subdued ; Bengal was our own ; the Carnatic had been absorbed; and the Nizam of the Deccan was trimming between the Malinitta states and an alliance with the British. Lord Mornington hoped for peace ; but in vain. He heard that Tippoo was intriguing with the French soon after his arrival; and Colonel Wellesley, who had been despatched with an expedition against Manilla, was recalled half- way thither, to take part in a deadly war on the mainland. The Thirty- third was transferred from Bengal to Madras, and placed under the orders of General Harris. While Colonel Wellesley, who, intrusted with the task of organizing, equipping, and drilling the forces of the Presidency destined to act against Mysore, was fulfilling that duty, General Bona- Rade had just landed in Egypt, and entered into communication with Tippoo Saib. The coming struggle was looked upon as one of life or death to our Indian empire.

Wellealey worked hard at his task, and succeeded in creating a most efficient though diminutive army. Tippoo mustered 70,000 seen; the Madras contingent mustered only 14,000, and of these only 4000 Euro- peans. At the last moment the Thirty-third was added to the Nizam's contingent ; and the army set out on its perilous enterprise, under Gene- ral Harris, early in 1799. Success followed success; and without a check the army laid siege to Seringapatam by the 4th of April. Before this place Wellington fought what is called his first action. He was ordered to take a " tope " or grove by a night attack. On receiving

the. order, he wrote that note which now appears as the first of that series of "Wellington Despatches" so well known. It is very charac- teristic. " 7b Lieutenant-General Harris, Conunander-in-chief.

.• Camp, 5th April 1799.

" My dear Sir—I do not know where you mean the post to be established, and I shall therefore be obliged to you if you will do me the favour to meet me this afternoon in front of the lines and show it to me. In the mean time, I will order my battalions to be in readiness. " Upon looking at the tope as I came in just now, it appeared to me that when you get possession of the bank of the nullah, you have the tope as a matter of course, as the latter is in the rear of the former. However, you are the best judge, and I shall be ready.

" I am, my dear Sir, your most faithful servant,

" ARTHUR WELLESLEY."

The attack was made, and failed ; and General Harris records that Colonel Wellesley came, " in a good deal of agitation, to say he hint not carried the tope.' But when daylight came the tope was instantly taken. This has been styled the first service and the only " failure" of the Duke of Wellington.

Seringapatam was taken by storm ; and Colonel Wellesley became Go- vernor and Commander-in-chief of Mysore. In two years he had ad- vanced thus far on his road to greatness, place, and fame. Here as every- where he displayed a masterly genius for administration, in selecting sub- ordinates, repairing old and opening new roads, and executing all the functions of a governor with great assiduity.

About this time' an expedition against Batavia was planned, and the command was offered to Colonel Wellesley ; but Lord Clive remonstrated effectually against his appointment, saying that he could not be spared ; and he was retained to perform his next exploit—the defeat of a robber chief called Dhoondiah Waugh. This man had made such head in the Dooab, had defeated a native ally of the British, and become altogether so formidable, that it cost Colonel Wellesley two months to " run him down." But he caught him at last, in his camp; made a dash upon him with cavalry, and routed his army. Dhoondiah was slain, and his body was carried to the British camp lashed to a galloper-gun. The next post of the young warrior was at Trincomalee; and he was thence ordered to Egypt to take the French in the rear. But when he touched at Bombay, he found himself superseded by General Baird. This caused him some mortification, as he thought it unjustifiable ; but his cha- racteristic sense of duty did not forsake him, and he offered to serve un• der General Baird. But a fever supervened, and he was detained by it at Bombay. "You will have seen," he had written to his brother Henry, when intending to set sail before General Baird arrived, "how much this resolution will annoy me ; but I have never had much value for the pub- lic spirit of any man who does not sacrifice his private views and conve- nience when it is necessary." Colonel Wellesley therefore returned to his command at Mysore. Meanwhile, French influence again aroused itself among the Mahrattas. Decaen, sent by Napoleon, did all he could to provoke and provide for a war while he observed the stipulations of peace ; and Perron, an old emi- grant, was actually in command of some fifteen to twenty thousand well- armed and tolerably disciplined native troops. War became everyday more imminent; and Colonel Wellesley only returned to Mysore to di- rect as a Major-General a war against these formidable foes. Secretly he had long prepared for such a war, in accumulating stores and perfecting communications; and in February he was appointed to command the army of operation. War was not as yet declared; but an English force had been sent to assist the Peishwa, the chief ruler, against his rebellious subordinate. General Wellesley now commanded an army of 10,000 men ; and he chose the season of the year when the rivers were not fordable for making the campaign ; hoping thus to surprise the Mahrattas. After mancenvering from the 26th of June to the 21st of September General Wellesley caught them, and concerted a plan by which he and Colonel Stevenson might at once fall on the enemy. 'Wellesley came upon the Mahrattas encamped at the village of Assaye, and supported by 100 pieces of catmon. He had only 4500 men in hand; but, without waiting for Colonel Stevenson, he made an instant charge, and won the battle at tho point of the bayonet. The conflict at Argaum followed, and the power of the Mahrattas was broken. General Wellesley received admiring praises and splendid presents from all quarters.

Sir Arthur Wellesley returned to England in September 1805. For three years he was now pretty well occupied as Irish Secretary, Privy Councillor, and Member of Parliament. His next military service was at Copenhagen; where he commanded the troops in the notorious foray of 1807, and conducted the negotiations which resulted in the surrender of the Danish fleet.

Napoleon Bonaparte was now supreme on the Continent ; and he had just added Spain to the list of his conquests, and planted Joseph Bonaparte on the Spanish throne. England at this juncture stepped in, and offered substantial aid to Spain : the expedition to Portugal was planned ; and Sir Arthur Wellesley was appointed to the command. Spain and Portu- gal were in insurrection ; and it is remarkable that the English Ministers were so ignorant of the state of the Peninsula, that they neither knew how. far Spanish patriotism could be relied on, nor how numerous were the French forces in the two kingdoms. It was only known that Joseph Bonaparte occupied the place of the deposed King of Spain, and Marshal Janet was established at Lisbon; while there was an irregular and seemingly formidable rising among the people. Appointed to lead the expedition, Sir Arthur Wellesley was in earnest with his work. He in fact preceded it, and landed on the coast to confer with the Juntas ; but he received such information from them as led him to conclude that it was "impossible to know the truth." However,

had only one course to pursue—to lead his forces, and do what ha could with them. Accordingly, he disembarked them in Mondego Bay, about

mid-way between Oporto and Lisbon, in August 1808; and this was the commencement of the Peninsular War. The troops amounted to 90'60 men, and were subsequently augmented to 14,000. Opposed to him was

Junot, with upwards of 20,000, but unable to bring that force into the

field. On the 17th of August, Sir Arthur won the battle of Rolica ; and marched on to meet Junot at Torres Vedras. Here he had just com- pleted arrangements for cutting off the French army, when a new com- mander, Sir Harry Burrard, supervened; and he declined to fight until the expected reinforcements under Sir John Moore should arrive. Wel- lesley told Burrard, that if he did not fight Junot, Junot would fight him : and so it turned out; for Junot attacked Wellesley at Vimiera, but was well thrashed for his temerity. Even then, Burrard, who dared not

refuse battle, declined to improve the victory. "Well, then, gentlemen," said Wellesley to his Staff, "we may go now and shoot red-legged par.

tridges." Soon after came Sir Hew Dalrymple, and theconvention of Cintra ; against which Wellesley vainly protested, but to which, as in duty bound, he appended his name. Sir Arthur returned to England for a season, to share again in civil labours, as a Member of the House of Commons and Chief Secretary for Ireland. Napoleon, who had for a while lost ground in Spain, now rapidly re- gained it Sir John Moore was forced to a disastrous retreat, and the patriotic insurgents were crushed. But at this time the British Govern- ment resolved upon a more efficient and vigorous prosecution of the war. Wellesley and Beresford, to whom the native Portuguese army was in- trusted, arrived in the Tagus in April 1809; and that series of operations followed which ended in the famous passage of the Douro on the 12th of May, and the defeat of Soult with the loss of his cannon and baggage. Then came the drawn battle of Talavera, on the 28th of July; Sir Arthur Wellesley became Baron Douro and Viscount Wellington. But the Spanish Generals were'ignorant, vacillating, and obstinate; Wellington could not get them to act with him ; neither could he rely on their move- ments if he endeavoured to act with them. Napoleon now literally oc- cupied Spain with great armies. There were nearly three hundred thou- sand men in the field, commanded by Ney, Suchet, Massena, Soult, Mor- tier, Victor, and a host of inferior but able officers. Against these, when he opened the campaign of 1810, Wellington had nominally about one hundred and twenty thousand ; of whom, however, not more than thirty thousand were British soldiers.

The campaign of 1810 may be summed up in a few words. Followed by Massena, Wellington first fought and won the battle of Busaco ; then took refuge behind the strong intrenchments known as the lines of Torres Vedras ; and remained there with plenty of supplies and in perfect security. Massena waited a month before these lines, and then retired with Wel- lington at his heels. Then followed in succession those battles and sieges which have for years been household words among us. Massena was beaten at Fuentes d' Onor ; Almeida fell; Ciudad Rodrigo was captured in ten days, in January 1812; in April Badajoz was stormed ; the army of Marmont was routed at Salamanca in July; and Wellington entered Ma- drid in August , The check before Burgos, in September, caused him to retreat to his former position on the Agueda, as the French Marshals were closing round him. During the winter-months he obtained the sole com- mand of the Spanish as well as British forces ; and thus he opened the campaign of 1813 with improved prospects of success. Napoleon had been worsted in Russia ; the British army had become unequalled in discipline and daring—ready, as its commander said, "to go anywhere and to do anything"; and when he once more set out on a march, Lord Wellington rose in his stirrups, and looking backward, cried "Farewell Portugal!" He had good reason for his anticipations of victory. By an unexpected movement he got in the rear of the French defences; a retreat was in- evitable; at Vittoria it became a flight, until the French were folded in the passes of the Pyrenees. Soult was now sent to retrieve the day; but it was too late. Wellington drove him from rock to rock in the Pyrenees; and on the 9th of November 1813 slept for the last time on Spanish ground. How he crossed the Bidassoa, and the Nivelle—how Soult ar- rested his advance for a moment at Toulouse—and how Napoleon finally succumbed—are sufficiently well known. Wellington had now become an European power. During the next six months he was employed as British Minister at Paris royal adviser at Madrid, and Plenipotentiary at Vienna. When he rammed to England, and took his place for the first time in the House of Lords, all the patents of his dignities were read in one day : Talavera had made him a Baron and Viscount, Ciudad Rodrigo an Earl, Salamanca a Marquis, and Vit- toria a Duke ; while honours and orders were heaped upon him by all the Kings of Christendom.

The rest of the military life of Wellington is too familiar to need re- petition in this memorandum. Napoleon escaped from Elba in 1815; he reigned one hundred days, and Waterloo dosed his career.

War was now over, and the Duke of Wellington, one of the most active of men, necessarily threw himself into civil service; • following, not like his caged rival, his own star, but the star of obvious duty. He had been richly rewarded by the British Parliament for his splendid services; fo- reign potentates had showered upon him rank, orders, presents, honours; he was at once a Field-Marshal in the British, Austrian, Russian, and Prussian armies. He had been appointed Generalissimo of the Allied Forces occupying France in 1815, and the term of his command was ori- ginally set down for five years. In this capacity he saved Paris from the Vandalism of Blucher ; and was twice exposed to attempts of assassins.Cantillon, to whom for this very act, Napoleon in St. Helena, left a handsome legacy, fired at him at the gates of his hotel; and a barrel of gunpowder, placed in the cellar of his house, was just saved in time from the blazing brand. At every great meeting of the Powers he was fore- most as the representative of England—at Vienna in 1815, at Aix-la- Chapelle in 1818, at Verona in 1822; and his solid sense and sagacious judgment served to mitigate the desperately coercive tendencies of his royal colleagues. By his advice, France was evacuated in 1818; and thus by his own act he threw up his lucrative and powerful post as Ge- neralissimo. At Verona, in obedience to the instructions of Mr. Can- ning, who had become Minister for Foreign Affairs on the death of Lord Londonderry, he remonstrated against the French expedition to put down the constitutional party in Spain, In 1818, the Duke of Wellington WECE; appointed Master-General of the Ordnance; in 1819, Governor of Plymouth ; in 1820, Colonel-in-chief of the Rifle Brigade. Meanwhile, Strathfieldsaye had been purchased at the national cost ;4' Apsley House had been rebuilt; the grand ceremony of opening Waterloo Bridge, when the Prince Regent rode with the Duke of York on his right and the Duke of Wellington on his left hand, and when 202 guns were fired in honour of the day, had been performed on the anniversary of Waterloo; the merchants of London had presented him with the Stothard shield, and the ladies of England had erected the Achilles in Hyde Park, cast from cannon captured in his victories. The Duke was then, perhaps, the leading man in Europe ; and his popularity was at its climax.

But he lost in political strife a greet deal of the popular affection which his martial exploits had won for him. He was an active adviser of the King's Government from 1820 to 1827, acquiescing in all the doubtful * Parliament voted in 1810 a pension of 2000/. to Lord Wellington; in 1812, a grant of 100,0001. for the purchase of lands ; in 1814 a grant of 400,0001., in 1815, a grant of 200,0001.; in all 900,000/., exclusive of the pension and the emoluments of his various offices. and unpopular measures of that despotic period. One thing is noticeable: Mr. Peel, who in 1822 succeeded Lord Sidmouth in the Home Office, had won the Duke of Wellington's esteem, and henceforth they were firm and faithful allies. When Lord Liverpool died, in 1827, and Canning was called on to form a Cabinet, the Duke, Peel, and others, resigned ; and in four short months Canning died. The Cabinet of Lord Goderich followed, existing precariously for a few months ; and then, the Duke—who had just declared, in answer to some charges of seeking to engross the Govern- ment, that he was "sensible of being unqualified for such a situation," and that he " should have been mad to think of it"—the Duke of Wel- lington was sent for, and made Prime Minister of England ; with Mr. Peel, Mr. Gonlburn, Mr. Huskisson, Lord Dudley, Lord Palmerston, Mr. Charles Grant, and Mr. William Lamb. But this Cabinet was not destined to survive long. Before breaking up, however, the Duke of Wellington, yielding, not to his sympathies, but to his good sense and perception of what the time demanded, accepted Lord John Russell's bill for the Repeal of the Corporation and Test Acts, and triumphantly car- ried it through the House of Peers. Then came a Corn Bill. Mr. Ilus. kisson presumed to act., as the Duke thought, with insubordination both on that and the Parliamentary franchise question in the case of East Bet- ford. Huskisson was dismissed; and the " Canningites," Dudley, Grant, Palmerston and Lamb, followed him. Their places were supplied by men since distinguished in the Peel-Wellington party—Lord Aberdeen, Sir Henry Hardinge, and Sir George Murray. And what did the Duke do now, that he had purged and solidified his Cabinet ? Went beyond Can- ning and all the preceding advocates of the Catholic claims, and carried, with the aid of Peel, the famous Emancipation Act of 1829. The two leaders paid the penalty of their patriotism in a loss of party adhesion. The Duke fought a duel in Battersea Fields with Lord Winchelsea, and extracted an apo- logy for an insulting calumny; Peel lost his seat as Member for the Uni- versity of Oxford, and was branded as an "apostate."

It was on the occasion of the passing of the Catholic Relief Bill that the Duke having demonstrated the positive necessity of either advancing or receding, dismissed the latter alternative with his celebrated declara- tion—" My Lords, I am one of those who have probably passed more of my life in war than most men, and principally I may say in civil war too ; and I must say this, that if I could avoid by any sacrifice whatever even one month of civil war in the country to which I am attached, I would sacrifice my life in order to do it." But his conduct on this occasion was not followed up in the matter of Parliamentary Reform. King George died, and King William succeeded him. The French Revolution of 1830 overturned the throne of Charles the Tenth; and the Duke of Wellington was looked upon as an ally of Prince Polignae. A storm of popular agitation for Reform of the House of Com- mons rose into a tempest The new Parliament consequent upon the ac- cession of King William met in November 1830; and at the very opening of the session the Duke delivered his memorable declaration, that the country already possessed a Legislature which answered all the good pur- poses of legislation; that the system of representation possessed the full and entire confidence of the country; and that he was not only not pre- pared 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. Reform of Parliament became an immediate certainty; and away went the Tories for ever, and the Wellington party for ten long years.

In 1832, when Earl Grey refused to continue in office, for a hitch in the passage of the Reform Bill,. the Duke of Wellington made a fruitless attempt to form another Ministry for the King. In 1834, when the Whigs were dismissed at the death of Earl Spencer, and a messenger was sent to Rome for Sir Robert Peel, he held for a while eight of the state portfolios, and was sole Minister ad interim. After this, he disappeared from official political life, although not from the decorous arena of the House of Lords. When Peel returned to power in 1841, the Duke was with him. When Peel resigned on the Corn-law question, and Lord John Russell could not form a Cabinet, the Duke came forward to "stand by" Peel, and to amist in carrying on the Queen's Government by carry- ing out Corn-law Biped. With the brief but gallant Peel Ministry of 1816 the Duke's political career comes to an end. But, to the honour of all parties, he retained the office of Commander-in-chief, and died "in harness," like a knight of old. His last speech in the House of Peers was made at the second reading of the Militia Bill, on the 15th of June; when he spoke so heartily and gratefully of the service rendered by the Militia recruits of his Peninsular campaigns.

The press of all parties, in paying its tribute to departing greatness, has reviewed the career and character of the Duke of Wellington with a fairness and discrimination to which journalism would not have been equal some years back. The sole exception is a shadow of jealousy from an extreme party which may hold the Duke unfaithful to its traditions. As examples of the manner only, we select a few extracts.

Sow Wellington used his Power.—" Raised by the universal gratitude of Europe and of this nation to the highest point of rank and power which a subject of the British monarchy could attain, he wore those dignities and he used that influence within the strictest limits of a subject's duty. No law was ever twisted to his will, no right was ever sacrificed by one hales breadth for his aggrandizement."—Tintes.

Sow lare sustained his Order.—" The truth is, that the Duke such as his deeds, his renown, and his virtues had made him, was to the lea one of the great bulwarks of his order, and of the institutions which depend on its pre- servation. He was identified in the public mind with the Lords ' ; and the honour and reverence which waited on his name—the perfect confidence which was felt in his motives—had their full weight and influence in turn- ing the attacks, covert or open, with which Democracy has long assailed that body. In restraining the bitterness of party feeling—in moderating the rancour of political hatred—the influence of one who had himself outlived all party motives was constantly, if not ostensibly, at work ; and many an angry spirit will now be released from a check which it had felt without ac- knowledging. Already we have seen put forward by the organs of the Ra- dical party unhesitating declarations that, by the death of the great Duke, one of the last inducements to peace or moderation, one of the last obstacles to direct attack on the constitution, has been removed."-21forning Post.

TVhat Wellington was not.—" The Duke of Wellington was no exception to the universal rule. A consummate military commander, the greatest of military commanders, he certainly was; a great statesman he certainly was not. 'Pried by the vulgar test, success, his political capacity has been plainly found wanting, for all his principal measures have failed of the effect expected by himself. Is it fanciful to suppose that these failures Were the effect of the application of military policy to civil affairs ? to sup- pose that because retreat may in war tempt an enemy to his ruin, while It brings him who retreats back on his resources, and gives time to re- cruit his strength, a military politician would expect the same effect from political concession ? Such an application, however, would in- volve a great mistake. In politics, to retreat is to fall back upon weakness not upon strength, beeauses it confesses weakness. To concede in politics, is to give strength, and the disposition to use that strength, to an enemy thus confessed to be already superior ; and therefore it is that what is thus conceded never satisfies, never can be recovered without difficulty and danger. In 1829, the Duke of Wellington pledged himself to repeal the fatal act of that year if its results did not prove beneficial. In strictness he ought to have redeemed that pledge' but he never did so ; and surely none will blame him for the omission. His Grace's error was the giving such a pledge, and introducing the measure of which a pledge, impossible to be redeemed faith; but to acknowledge that he did so is to confess that he was not a ,fra... was the guarantee. None can doubt that his Grace acted in perfect

seeing statesman. We may say somewhat the same of his Grace's adhesion to Sir Robert Peel in the winter of 1845-46. Had his Grace held to his own opinion and acted as the Earl of Derby acted, he would have brought the

Cabinet him, and spared the country a vast amount of evil. His Grace was, however, though peremptory enough for a time in the end a conceding politician ; certainly not the statesman by which a free state can be best pre- served."—Btanclard. - His practical Test.—" The leading quality of this remarkable man, that which seemed the sum of his other qualities, and which rendered him in the judgment of the great French diplomatist the most capable man' of his time, was that he always knew what was best to be done in the actual state of affairs, and had the wisdom and courage to do it In this there was but little show, and sometimes not a lade obloquy. There was no personal pride, no egotistic glory, in discerning and obeying the dictation of circumstances. The Duke always knew when to advance, and when to give way, and when to rest content with a purely defensive position."—Times.

How he started as an Anti-,Tacobin.—" When Wellington said that he should be mad if he accepted the Premiership, what he meant was, that he knew nothing about politics and the science of government, as such. Nor did he. He never had leisure to grasp the subject. Literature and study were not his forte. He was probably but little acquainted with the consti- tutional history of England; and it may be questioned whether he knew the names, much less the principles, of half the Administrations which have ruled this country since the Restoration. But what he did know was this— that, for six-and-twenty years of his active life he had been engaged in pit- ting one principle against another. In his mind, jacobinism was the thing that he had fought and conquered. Jacobinism and Constitutionalism were then considered equivalent ; and the Treaty of Paris and the Congress of Vienna had apparently settled the great European strife. All that the Duke mild see was, that he was personally identified with the principle of au- thority. If Salamanca and 'Waterloo had not been fought to assert this, ' what '—the Duke probably reasoned in his plain, practical, immediate way —'am I Duke of Wellington for ? ' Nor, could this be gainsaid. He had inherited certain traditions, fought for them, and rendered them triumphant. They had made him, and he naturally endorsed them—he took them on trust. Nor can it be denied that anything like Liberalism must have pre- sented itself to him Whitbread under very untoward auspices. The Libe- ralism of Grey and Whitbread had done everything which it could to thwart his successes in Spain. Peterloo and Mr. Henry Hunt were not the sort of thing or man to win favour in the Duke's eyes at home ; and abroad he had only known Constitutionalism in very unfavourable connexion with Spanish Patriots, Italian Carbonari, and German mysticism, while over the whole thing still hovered the crimson shadow of the Reign of Terror. All that the Duke of Wellington could see was the immediate 'natter of choice. On every direct and single question his judgment Was firm clear, decisive, and intuitively correct ; but he could not view any pealed subject except as a solitary issue of fact."—Dforning Chronicle.

How he became Liberal.—"This consideration, we think, accounts for and fully harmonizes all his political career. He clung to Liverpool and Castlereagh because they were identified with his lifelong career of success. They represented a broad, intelligible principle, which was his own. He could understand and appreciate this. He distrusted Canning, because he could not make him out—he must have thought him a visionary and a schemer. -There was no community of nature between him and such a Liber- alism as Canning's ; it was too vague and shadowy for his appreciation. Very probably, the Duke of Wellington might have accepted the whole of the policy of Iluskisson and Canning by instalments. His strong sense would have doubtless closed with every particular element of a Liberal policy, had it been presented to him in a tangible form and plan, step by step. He had actually, at the French Restoration, recommended a distinct line of action for a popular Administration in France. But in the gross, and as a whole, Liberalism was beyond him. This was his state of mind, and his sum of political knowledge, up to the very time when he was so un- expectedly called on to work the state machine. Hitherto, he had been theoretically an Absolutist ; but., though unconsciously, he was always, in fact, more liberal than he was aware of, and this simply from the practical character of his mind. Experience, feeling, conscientiousness, and the sense of duty, had taught him to recognize facts. In his campaigns he had learned to take things as they were, and to make the best of them—to work with such tools as he had—to get better if he could, but if not, to make the most of bad ones. In short, his extreme Toryism was traditionary, taken upon trust, and received in an uninquiring and even humble spirit; whilst his Liberalism was his own self-evolved, and the result of his experimental knowledge of men and things."—Morning Chronicle.

He was ever English.—" He had, combined in himself, in a singular de- gree, the national qualities on which the English people pride themselves— clear practical honesty of intellect, patience, probity, fidelity of character. He had the qualities which make Englishmen, not perhaps more personally attractive at first sight, but which make them an historical people' and will keep their name alive in the latest annals of the world. He had the quali- ties which found colonies—establish commerce—which make great towns, and roads, and canals—which make men suffer hardships, submit to labour, and which make them pay.' You could calculate him like a planet. The comparatively trivial circumstance which we all felt to be so characteristic of him—we mean his formal punctuality in answering all manner of notes, and which people smiled at as the characteristic ways of some old and loved friend —was itself a significant symbol of his whole life. He always did what ought to be done, because it was his business. He destroyed an army or took a town with the same punctuality with which he arrived at a dinner-p and marched into a territory as he would have done into the Horse Guards. It has been admitted that war was never conducted so purely, so decently, with so much regard to the considerations of the social rectitude of civiliza- tion as under him. Who has clone such work, and come away with hands so clean ?"—Daily News. The French press, such as it is, has not failed to comment on the death of Wellington. • The Constitutionnel is decidedly amicable- " To sum up : Lord Wellington was an English general in the full acceptation of the word' cool, calm, methodical, without enthusiasm, but without any false brilliancy, sure of himself, confident in his soldiers, and always firm both in good and bad fortune. It has been justly remarked, that in the numerous despatches which he published, and which form twelve enormous volumes, the word 'glory' never occurs. His only dominant passion was love of his country. His conduct and his cha- racter may be summed up in a word—he was a Pitt on horseback."

In the Pays we find at least a negative appreciation—

"The name of the Duke of Wellington was European. The vast events in which he was mixed up, the immense part which he played during many long years in the destinies of the world, the eminent place which he occu- pied in the councils of the Crown in England, and the great authority which he exercised over his party in Parliament, have made this personage one of the most remarkable of our time. - The news of his death will produce a pro- found sensation in Europe."

The Siècle draws a moral from the actual and former positions of France and England— "The Duke of Wellington was, during the first period of his life, the last representative of the fatal animosities which so long armed one against the other —the two powerful nations whose accord is now necessary to the march of civilization. The sword, it is to be hoped at least, has for ever been sheathed. The fields of battle, on which France and England have so fiercely contended, have become transformed, and the pacific conflicts of manufactures and com- merce have succeeded to sanguinary contests. In our eyes, the Duke of Wel- lington's best title to glory is, that he understood in the latter years of his life this striking transformation, and identified himself with the spirit of the century."

The Dehats gives a short biography of the Duke, without comment. The .ifssemblie Nationale, the Union, and the Univers, merely give the telegraphic despatch announcing the death.

As the news of the great event which has immortalized the Castle of Weimer travelled rapidly from town to town, there arose the signs of nation- al grief for a national loss. On the Thames, flags of all nations were drop- ped to half-mast ; business was partially suspended in the departments of Trinity House; and the bell of the Tower Church tolled during Wednes- day. At Liverpool, flags were lowered ; as they were at all the seaports. At Birmingham, the bell of St. Martin's was muffled and tolled; and this bell will toll until the body of the Duke shall be buried. Manchester partially closed the shutters of its Exchange. In the garrisons music has been forbidden. There is but one expression of sober sorrow ; all political animosity has long been forgotten. Even periodical festivities have par- taken of the general feeling : the Musical Festival has been going on in Hereford Cathedral, and it began in the midst of the gloom caused by the news—postponing the regular programme, the Festival opened with the Dead Marcia in Saul.