was told at my lodgings in Paris, one evening, that an individual unknown had twice asked for me, and at length left his card, "Hotel de Boston." I returned the call, and found, au première, the aforesaid secretary, who made an appointment for the next day at eleven o'clock, having something of moment to consult me upon. De S was a stout-set man, hardly of the middle height, dressed in a green coat, and the usual pantaloons and half boots of the time. His swarthy countenance indicated a southern parentage, with no extraordinary intelligence imprinted on its expression. I found on the following morning a recherché French breakfast, of which I partook: and that over, De S-- began his business. The Times had supported the cause of Spain in the disputes about Monte Video with Portugal. De S wanted me to answer the Times from authentic documents which he would supply from the Portuguese government. I consented, and sent over several letters to the Morning Chronicle upon the subject, for the insertions of which he charged the Chevalier AC, the Portuguese agent in London, to pay. He paid twenty guineas for each. Perry, the proprietor, knew how to take care of the "siller," as well as any of his countrymen. When we had arranged this matter, De S-produced a bundle of papers written in Portuguese. "Here," said he, "is a history, public and private, of the Duke of Wellington during his campaigns from Lisbon to Paris. I always lived with him, and I have a wish to publish it." I looked once over the packet, which was bulky, but what with the writing and a language not familiar to me, I could make out but little. Still I saw enough to convince me that if what I saw were true, no man was a hero to his valet de chambre. To publish such a work on the part of one who had been in the Duke's confidence to a certain extent, was truly Portuguese in character, and I thought of what Spanish writers have sometimes said of their neighbours. The motive, too, was bad. The Duke would not interfere in behalf of his old secretary with the government at Lisbon, which had been guilty of an illegal act towards him, in consequence of a proceeding in Paris not morally creditable to the ex-secretary. The proceeding was one that did not concern the Portuguese government at all, and happened far beyond its jurisdiction. I naturally felt anxious that such a work should not appear in Paris, through the desire of an unworthy dissatisfaction in one who ought to have evinced a better feeling; much more, too, would be made of a similar work than it merited in the capital of France at such a I therefore asked if the Duke knew of the manuscript being in existence. De S replied in the negative. I then advised him to let the Duke know indirectly that such a history was in existence, and that perhaps he would then do something in his (De S-'s) behalf. That I would by no means advise his publishing such a work in France, for the police would expel him from Paris, and where could he go with his property under sequestration at Lisbon. That the Duke might be a cool friend, but he would be a formidable enemy, especially as such a publication would look like a breach of private confidence. People would only believe half of it. I believe De S took my advice, for I never heard further of the manuscript. moment. The cause of this dilemma into which the ex-secretary had got was not to his praise, though he justified himself by quoting no less an example than the Emperor Alexander of Russia. It related to a species of love-intrigue involving some singular circumstances. The Duke of Wellington would not mix himself up with the diplomatists of France, Spain, and Portugal about a grievance that was not of a public nature, when his old secretary had brought it all upon himself. I have mentioned the Duke's rigidness in refusing to be dictated to frivolously about his dinner guests, even by a monarch. In like manner he would not do an unjust act to please his own sovereign. George IV. said to him one day, "Arthur, the regiment is vacant, gazette Lord 66 Impossible, and please your majesty; there are officers who have served the country for many years whose turn comes first." "Never mind, Arthur, gazette Lord He The Duke came up to town, and gazetted Sir Ronald Fergusson. was then all-powerful in the cabinet as well as in the army, and the king, whose character the Duke well understood, was obliged to take the matter with as good a grace as he was able. An officer in the army, still alive, expressing his wonder that the Duke should lend his papers to such a radical as the present Sir William Napier, to assist him in composing his admirable history of the "Peninsular War," he replied, "And what if he is a radical; he will tell the truth, and that is all I care about." The Duke had a great contempt for Southey's history of the Spanish war, and said to a friend that it was just as good a history of any other war as it was of that in Spain. The eccentric Colonel Jones, of the Guards, who was on duty during the trial of Queen Caroline, gave her counsel, at their request, the intelligence of a particular witness being among others shut up in Cotten Garden, which he ascertained by personal inquiry, no one refusing entrance to a commanding officer of the Guards. Lord Sidmouth, whose agents were on the alert, ascertained the fact, and asked the Duke whether Jones should not be dismissed the service without appeal. "He did nothing unmilitary,” replied the Duke; "you should lock up your witnesses. A few days afterwards, Jones took up an address to the queen at Brandenburgh House, in his full uniform, as colonel of the Guards. His lordship made another attempt to get Jones's commission taken from him, but succeeded no better. "By G, he had as good a right to carry up an address from his fellow-subjects as you or I, my lord; a soldier is a subject. If he had gone sneaking up in plain clothes, I might agree to it." That Jones's political opinions should not subject him to injustice on the part of a minister of the Duke's own party, was no doubt a feeling strengthened by the injustice the Duke himself had sustained from such quarters. It was impossible for a straightforward man like the Duke to join in miserable cabinet intrigues. His despatches paint the annoyance he suffered from the unprincipled tactics of those with whom he had to deal in the cabinet of Portugal, more particularly with the Patriarch and his clique, and the Souzas, not to refer to his vexations at some of the dealings with him at home. While he knew how to keep his own secrets, his conduct with others was open. He was conscious of innate strength, because he acted upon the common-sense principles of right and wrong. He borrowed nothing from the arts of eloquence; strong and sententious, his rhetoric gained its end the shortest way, backed by his natural force of character. During three hours that I was once in his company, while he was watching some experiments in steam artillery, I saw that he regarded only results and had no curiosity about details. Here he differed from his great antagonist, Napoleon, who would master every detail if possible. Sir Robert Peel, and several officers from Woolwich, about a dozen in all, had assembled on the occasion. His observations were very limited. "Well, cavalry could not approach that," said the Duke, referring solely to the noise. "Nor infantry either," some one said. "Why not?" "The intense heat of the steam only flashes out when it is twenty or thirty yards from the gun-at its exit it is cold." This singular fact the Duke did not notice, though a phenomenon strange to all present except the engineer. His observations were confined solely to the effect. When he saw fifty balls discharged successively, and hitting the same spot exactly, he said, "Ay, that will do." The gun being moved laterally, and perforating boards placed end to end horizontally, with holes not a foot apart from one extremity to the other, so that it would take down a company of soldiers, he only remarked, "Ay, that is effective, if it can be used in the field." He took little further notice of the experiments in any other sense, conversing with Sir Robert Peel all the time upon indifferent subjects; and when asked if he did not wish to see how the effect was brought about, and the steam generated, he replied, "No, no; those gentlemen," pointing to the officers of artillery and engineers who were present "those gentlemen will look after that." Nor did he evince the slightest curiosity on the matter. I therefore formed an opinion from this incident that the Duke's mind was seldom directed to objects not required to enable him to fulfil his own part of a public duty. He did not wander from the immediate object of pursuit, nor was he curious about causes. He confined his efforts within strict limits. His mind was more capable of high concentration than of great expansion-of energetic movements on the field rather than of the scientific details of a siege, which last he could not so readily feel the necessity of; hence, perhaps, the fact of his losing more men in his Peninsular sieges than in his battles. He was curious about nothing that led him aside from the main end, or burdened his mind with aught foreign to divert his attention from it. He blended the useful and powerful together, and moved the mass. He was perfect master, too, of the effect of moral considerations in war, in which his countrymen are generally so deficient. He was not imaginative, but practical. His reserve and decision were conjoined with unequalled professional sagacity in the employment sometimes of very scanty means. He hated indirect replies to questions, because it led him to uncertainties. His occasional slowness of operation was only a masterly prudence; his inaction, a patience that was watching its opportunity; while the secrecy of his plans was the key to his successes, acting with materials the peculiar application of which he understood better than any other man. How he brought his troops suddenly into action at a given point, when the corps themselves were unaware of their position, was a wonder in the Peninsular army. To their astonishment heights were crowned with his troops at the opportune moment, that had come nobody knew from whence. He always duly appreciated talent, of which two instances may suffice. Riding down the lines in Spain one day, and in need of an engineer officer, he suddenly addressed the officers of the regiments near him, with an inquiry if any one of them could draw. For some time he got a negative reply. At last a modest young infantry officer stepped out, and said he could draw a little. The Duke made him mount a dragoon horse, and being provided with pencil and paper, he was told to go in a certain direction and make a sketch of what he saw, and of the profile of the country, and bring it to head-quarters. The officer obeyed, and succeeded so well that the Duke made him acting engineer on the spot, and he was pushed up in the army by his interest until he became a distinguished field officer. The late Sir Thomas Tomlins was another instance of the Duke's attention to men of ability who served him. When he was secretary for Ireland he wanted a bill drawn, and asked for a professional person who could do it without that confusion of words by which legal men rendered such drafts unintelligible to all but themselves. Mr. Tomlins was recommended to him for the purpose, being at that time a parliamentary draftsman. "Can you draw an Act of Parliament that a plain man can understand? By God, I never can discover the meaning of their words— they have no meanings. Can you draw a bill that will hold water?" Mr. Tomlins said he would try. "I understand English,” said the Duke, "but I cannot understand the bills as they are now drawn, using ten words where one will do." Mr. Tomlins succeeded in pleasing him, the Duke being satisfied with the draft he presented. Other lawyers crammed words into them until they were past his understanding, the Duke said, swearing hardly at their mystifications, as was his custom on many occasions. He recommended Mr. Tomlins to the Treasury, and got him appointed draftsman there, with a very fine income. Nor was this all, for being at Wanstead soon after Mr. Tilney Long Pole Wellesley was married, and George IV. being there also, the Duke recommended Mr. Tomlins to the king for knighthood, and he was knighted. On this occasion the king handsomely told Sir Thomas that had he not known of his professional merits he should have knighted him upon the recommendation of the Duke of Wellington alone, as he was fully sensible it would not have been given unless it was well deserved. The Spanish general Alava was a great friend of the Duke of Wellington's, and while resident here had the misfortune to break his leg, on which occasion the Duke visited him almost every day. General Alava was a near relative of Manuel de Goristoza, the distinguished Spanish writer, who, exiled by Ferdinand VII., afterwards entered the service of Mexico, and concluded the first treaties made by that country with England and France. He also used to call upon the general, and there to meet the Duke of Wellington. General Alava introduced him as his relative, adding that he was un fou pour la libertie. The Duke smiled at the observation. "If M. de Goristoza is extravagant in his love of liberty, he is best here, at present." He then inquired after several distinguished men whom he had known in the country, and finding they were exiled, observed that he thought Spain had paid enough in trouble already not to seek more. ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. BY MRS. BUSHBY. THE blow has fallen!-that deep stunning blow The mightiest spirit on the earth to meet The stanch defender of her throne and laws, As, on the echoing trumpet-blasts of fame The world seems less of him bereft! In lordly and in regal hall— In every homestead through the land- Wherever British foot hath trod And can one name the distant spot Raised altars to the Christians' God? 'Midst India's plains-its palmy groves- |