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OUR readers are no doubt aware, that a collection of Lord Wellington's despatches has been for some time past in process of publication. volumes of the work have already appeared, and as the documents they contain reach only to the latter part of 1810, it is probable that at least an equal number will be required for its completion. Colonel Gurwood, the editor, is well known to be one of the most distinguished officers of his rank in the service, and having gained his honours under Wellington, may be supposed to discharge his duties con amore. The volumes before us prove that he is fully qualified for the task he has undertaken. His own contributions are always marked by good taste and sound judgment, and the prefatory notice of the state of India,

at the period of Lord Wellington's arrival, is just what it ought to beclear, concise, and comprehensive.

Though the work be announced simply as a collection of "despatches," that title affords a very inadequate idea of its contents. In fact, it contains not merely the despatches-taking the word in its ordinary signification-but the whole mass of Lord Wellington's letters relative to the public service, which it has been found possible to recover. Of those contained in the volumes already published many are of course official, but the great majority are of a nature strictly private, and communicate his impressions of passing events with a freedom only to be expected in the confidential intercourse of friends. It is needless to say how much this entire

The Despatches of Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington, K. G., during his various Campaigns in India, Denmark, Portugal, Spain, the Low Countries, and France, from 1799 to 1818. Compiled from official and authentic documents, by Lieut-Colonel Gurwood, Esquire to his Grace as Knight of the Bath. London: John Murray, Albemarle Street. 1834-6.

We have been informed within these few days, that Sir Frederick Adam has discovered Three Volumes of His Grace's Letters in his own handwriting in the Mysore Residency. These letters embrace the period immediately subsequent to the Duke's taking command of Seringapatam in 1799, up to his illness at Bombay in 1801. They are all addressed to Colonel Barry Close, and there appears to be only one of them which has found its way into print. Some of these are of the highest interest, and they all afford proof, it is said, of the versatility and extent of the Duke's capacity.

VOL. XLI. NO. CCLV.

A

absence of premeditation enhances their interest and value. We read with the gratifying consciousness of being admitted to the full confidence of the writer, and are often placed in a situation to observe the entire progress of his plans, from the first moment of their conception to that of their execution. We learn how he wrote, how he felt, how he acted, under circumstances of high and singular interest, and are enabled to trace the progressive developement of those qualities which have led to the acquisition of the highest honours attainable by a British subject, and the most splendid reputation in Europe. By the military student the work will be found full of the most important instruction, which he could hope to obtain from no other source. He will find in it a lofty example of high talents devoted to high objects of dangers braved-privations cheerfully submitted to difficulties encountered and overcome an activity that never tired --and a professional zeal which shrank from the performance of no duty however irksome and laborious. Nor will the statesman find the time unprofitably spent which he devotes to these pages. Be his pretensions what they may, we are sure he cannot read of the negotiations conducted by Wellington with consummate skill; of the important and complicated interests he was often called on to arrange or to protect; or observe how completely his military operations were guided by the most subtle and comprehensive views of political expediency, without gaining some valuable knowledge and some enlargement of thought.

But apart from such considerations, and regarding the work merely as a collection of historical documents illustrative of events of the highest interest and importance, it would be difficult to over-estimate its value. History in general can deal only in results, and whenever it attempts more, the truth of its conclusions is even proverbially admitted to be precarious. To military history, in particular, the observation is applicable in its broadest extent. The latter will be found in many instances to be little more than a system of ingenious conjecture. The reason is obvious. Even where we are in possession of a minute and authentic record of the proceedings of two hostile armies (a circumstance

which rarely happens), our conclusions as to the motives which produced them, must frequently be dubious and imperfect. The decisions of a commander are necessarily influenced by many transient circumstances, which born of the moment, pass with it, and leave no trace of their existence. Rumours often false-anticipations not realized and never recorded-and a multitude of petty but important facts which never reach the historian, constitute, in many cases, the only key by which the circumstances of a campaign can be satisfactorily explained. Without a knowledge of these, the records of war afford but scanty instruction, and an imperfect lesson. The premises reasoned from are necessarily imperfect, and of course little reliance can be placed even on the most logical deductions from partial . truth.

It is not, however, in the public despatches of a general that we can look for the minute and circumstantial details, so essential to accurate judg ment. They can be discovered only by examination of his private records, -where such exist, and his secret and confidential communications with the higher officers of his army. Pos sessing these valuable materials, however, we are placed as it were on an eminence which commands the whole events of the war, and are enabled to decide with accuracy on the merits of the general.

There are probably, however, very few generals who would feel solicitous that the world should be furnished with a knowledge so capable of being used as an instrument of offence. The power of scrutiny which it must necessarily carry with it is felt to be too severe. Even where their operations have been successful in result, many generals are conscious of errors and miscalculations, towards which they are by no means desirous that public attention should be directed. To military men, at least, the assertion will not seem incredible, that victories have been gained by a fortunate mistake, and blunders on one side have been occasionally successful, through greater miscalculations on the other. In such circumstances, of course, the victor has the prudence to wear his honours in silence. He writes no history of his achievements-he publishes no documents connected with them-he

communicates no gratuitous particulars for the gratification of inconvenient curiosity. The laurels acquired by one error, he takes care not to endanger by another. His papers, therefore, are burned, or consigned to the most obscure corner of his bureau, and the world is left to form its own estimate of his services, and discriminate as best it may, between merit and good luck. Under such circumstances, the decision, as might be expected, is all in his favour. England rings with his praises. He receives the thanks of Parliament-is invested with stars and ribbons-and when he is gathered to his fathers, St Paul's is graced with a monument to his memory, in which Chantrey represents him resting on a cannon, with the true lineaments and bearing of a majestic warrior.

It is probable that the sketch we have just drawn savours somewhat of caricature. At all events, we wish merely to state, that whatever peril in ordinary cases may attend such disclosures, by the publication of the present work we are put in possession of every document which can illustrate the public life of Wellington. It cannot fail to be regarded as a remarkable and memorable circumstance, that the man whose aristocratic contempt for popular opinion has been made the subject of invective by every Radical newspaper in the kingdom, should thus voluntarily place himself at the bar of the public, and demand judgment. He says, "in the first enthusiasm of triumph, you bestowed honours on the man by whom it had been achieved; I now, after a lapse of years, afford you the means of judging whether these honours have been merited." There can be no reason, therefore, why the final award on the services of Wellington should not be delivered. He acknowledges the authority of the tribunal. He challenges the fullest investigation of his claims. There exists no doubt as to the authenticity or validity of the evidence adduced. If the reputation he enjoys be founded on a false and hollow basis, he has himself furnished ample means by which the imposture may be detected. He voluntarily subjects every action of his public life to the most rigid and unsparing examination. He asks no favour, and will accept of none; he demands only that which is

the birthright of every Englishmanjustice-and where is the man who would deny to Wellington that which is accorded to the meanest criminal?

It is inconceivable that such an appeal should have been made by a man already in the evening of life; covered with honours; satiated-if ever man was with applause; with no remaining ambition to be gratified, unless from the proud consciousness, that there was nothing in his past life that demanded either colouring or concealment. No man has been more the object of malignant abuse. Mobs have assailed his life, and mob orators his principles and character. And what is his answer? The proudest ever made by a great man to his calumniators.

He lays open the record of his services, he discloses every particular connected with them, and lets in the broad light of day, that every transaction in which he has borne a part, may be seen by all, in its true colours and proportions. This is Wellington's reply. How nobly does it befit the

man!

The work, indeed, might, without impropriety, have been entitled, "Memoirs of the public life of the Duke of Wellington," for from its contents alone, might be compiled a biography far more authentic and minute, than we can ever hope to possess of any other warrior or statesman. There exists no man whose life is so completely historical, so thoroughly and inseparably interwoven with the great events of his time, as that of Wellington. The part allotted to him has not only been uniformly great, but played on a great stage. In tracing his career, therefore, the reader has not to wade through a mass of uninteresting details, such as are usually necessary to illustrate the progress of subordinate merit to distinction and reward. To his noble birth, and the political influence of his connexions, Wellington was perhaps indebted, in the first instance, for the opportunities of distinction he enjoyed; but for the manner in which he turned these opportunities to account, he was indebted to no one but himself. Under no circumstances is it conceivable, that talents like Wellington's could have failed in raising their possessor to the highest distinction. But even in the commencement of his career he owed nothing more to patronage, than does

the sculptor who is employed on some high work of art. The marble may be found by others, but it is to the skill and genius of the artist that we are indebted for the statue.

Had Wellington been deficient in those great qualities which raised him to pre-eminence, no private or family influence, however powerful, could have retained him in those high and responsible situations which he successively held. The interests at stake were too vast to be trifled with, and the certain consequences of failure too disastrous to admit of the most important powers being confided to hands incapable of wielding them with effect. Lord Wellington arrived in India at the moment of a great crisis. The fate of our whole possessions in the East depended on the issue of the Mysore war. Among the native powers, Lord Wellesley could discover only virulent enemies, and lukewarm allies ready to become enemies on the first symptom of weakness or disaster. Such were the political circumstances under which the public life of Lord Wellington may be said to have commenced. To the developement of talents like his they were highly favourable, but not so to the advancement of imbecile mediocrity. It is in tranquil times, and in sheltered places, that the latter most flourishes, and spreads its tiny blossoms to the

sun.

On the mountain top it is uprooted by the first storm.

Notwithstanding the unquestionable interest and importance of the work, we fear it is impossible to expect that it should become popular in the ordinary acceptation of the term. To understand its contents, and follow out the inferences to which they lead, the reader must bring to the perusal a very considerable degree of knowledge. He must possess accurate information of the geography of the seat of war, its difficulties and resources, and bear in mind, not only the relative position of the different portions of the army to the enemy, but to each other. All that part of the documents which relates to military movements, necessarily presupposes such knowledge in the reader, and it is of course impossible to form any judgment of the qualities they display without thoroughly understanding the circumstances under which they were writ

ten.

To acquire information so extensive, however, and continually to bear in mind the very numerous details which press on the attention in reading these volumes, is a task which by few men will be found easy, and by many, one demanding more labour than they have leisure to bestow. The work, too, is voluminous and expensive, and though its claims, arising both from the author and the subject, are too powerful and peculiar not to secure for it a place in every library, it is impossible to expect (unless the march of pocket should keep pace with the march of intellect), that its contents will ever be very widely diffused among that numerous and increasing portion of the community, yclept "the reading public."

It shall be our object, therefore, in this, and many other articles by which we intend it shall be succeeded, to obviate, as far as possible, the difficulties to which we have alluded, and furnish such a commentary as may fully illustrate the import of the copious extracts which we shall lay before our readers. Regarding the subject as one which should be held sacred from party feeling, we shall avoid, in the execution of our task, touching on any matters merely political. It is only through his military career-which may be considered to have terminated with the second expulsion of Napoleon— that we propose to follow him; and we trust that in contemplating the triumphs of our common country, and rendering justice to the great mind by which they were achieved, men of all parties will for a time cast aside their prejudices, and forgetting that they are Whig or Tory, remember only that they are Englishmen.

Before entering on the task we have undertaken, we think it will not be found uninteresting to take a short review of the circumstances of Wellington's early life. Commencing, therefore, ab ovo, be it known, that Arthur Wellesley, the third son of the Earl of Mornington, was born on the first of May, 1769. At the usual age he was sent to Eton, and being intended for the army, was subsequently removed to the Military Academy at Angiers in France. In 1787, he received his first commission as ensign of infantry, and rose by rapid steps to the rank of colonel, In 1794, he sailed in command of the 33d regiment to join

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