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by to its last resting-place in St. Paul's Cathedral.

To all appearances, his Grace had, on this November morning, many years of life and vigor before him. He was look ing remarkably well, and it was remarked that the slight traces of wrinkles that had been observed upon his forehead had disappeared. The sculptor thought the circumstance so remarkable, that he called the attention of Mrs- (who was again present) to the fact that the Duke's forehead was then actually without a wrinkle. The Duke, in reply to a remark, says, with emphasis, he has been very well, and that he has been reading without glasses. Mrs.observes: "You were probably nearsighted when you were young. "By no means," emphatically replied the Duke; "I could see troops, when I was in India, with the naked eye, twenty miles; distinguish the cavalry from the infantry; the troops that were in motion from those that were stationary." With his usual honesty and candor, he hastens to add: "It is very true that I was favorably

placed. The sun was shining on my back and upon the troops; but I saw them distinctly, and subsequent information proved that I was correct. I can now, when I am at Walmer, in clear weather, always tell by the naked eye when they light up on the opposite coast."

The Duke gives two hours and three quarters to this sitting. He examines the picture (since engraved) and approves of it, but points out that in one particular it is not accurate. The artist has placed a glove in his left hand, and "I never wear gloves," says the Duke; "but it is of no consequence; I don't wish it altered; I ought to have them."

The bust and picture in which the Great "Duke took so much interest, were not unworthy of the unusual opportunities enjoyed by the artists-the Messrs. Weigall. The bust, verified by actual measurement, exhibits the massive proportions of the lower portion of the face, which lent so much steadfastness, determination, and force of character, to the Duke's aspect.

WELLINGTON AND WATERLOO.

IN connection with the portrait of this | great modern warrior, and partly as an illustration of it, we give a brief sketch of the cartoon drawing by Mr. Maclise which is soon to be painted in fresco upon the wall in the chamber of the House of Lords. It is to commemorate a great event. The battle of Waterloo, as every one knows, was one of the great battles of this world's history, memorable in all coming time. We wandered over the field with feelings of intense excitement, almost fancying the thunders of battle were just dying away in the distance, and went and stood upon the spot where Wellington is said to have stood when he gave the final order to the Imperial Guards which decided the terrible conflict. Soon after this the scene represented in the cartoon occurred. Let us, then, stand at once in front of the cartoon which is placed on the wall of the chamber of the House of Lords. A car toon, some of our reader may not be

aware, is a drawing made with chalk upon large sheets of paper stretched on a frame, and in precisely the same size as that of the picture which is to be painted from it. There is rarely or ever any color in such a work; mostly it is a mere outline which may, by the process of tracing, be transferred, part by part, upon the wall which is to bear the picture. The necessity for such a drawing arises from the very nature of the process of fresco painting, which being executed piecemeal, so to speak, can only progress so far as from part to part, so much being set out to suffice for each day's work as the artist feels confident of being able to accomplish. The outline of each day's work, thus selected, is traced upon the fresh plaster that forms the ground and substance of the picture, that portion of the cartoon which is thus employed being removed immediately.

With this explanation, we may take the

and these last, one sees the meeting of two horsemen the generals, each of whom is surrounded by his staff. Blücher, with a wide German grin of congratulation, grasps the hand of Wellington: throughout the whole day he has ridden, straining his ears and his eyes, and pushing on more speedily as every fresh hight of the undulating road was overcome, and every fresh blast of the wind brought nearer and nearer, and louder and yet more loud, the sounds of the desperate contest that so terribly excited him. He has just now gained the assurance that his old enemy, Napoleon, has at last been defeated, and yet that not so utterly but he may find fuel for his ancient hatred in finishing the victory, and bear no light part in making it a permanent overthrow and utter destruction to the scourge of his country.

reader before the drawing-for this it is, | between the wounded in the foreground and nothing more. The subject is the meeting of Wellington and Blücher at the battle of Waterloo, a theme for the greatest artist-the closing scene and climax of a whole epos of the world's history-the finale of a drama men hoped there would be no need to play again. In a moment one recognizes the most significant fact of the work inself-that, indeed, there has been employed no patent means of addressing the vulgar eye. Throughout its forty feet of surface, covered with figures, crowded together as they are on this battle-field, there is no frowning, self important, self-conscious model-no, not one such either amongst the principals or the supernumeraries. Both in detail and in the whole, it is altogether distinct from those acted pieces, better or worse, with which the artist has presented us for the last twenty years. Indeed, it is as much superior to these last as they were to the How eager he is for the task is clear galvanized mummy and marionette per- enough by the vigor of his clutch of Welformances of the artist's dilletante prede- lington's hand, and the sparkle of his eyes cessors, from which he had so large a that gleam under the shade of his Prussian hand in delivering the world. It is a traveling cap. These evidences of paswork not merely of fanciful ingenuity and sionate excitement are true to the element artistic dexterity-comparatively, in fact, of physical activity that so largely pervadit is one of true imagination, a subject not ed his nature, affected as it must be at given to us, as in other cases, as a mere this moment of entering upon so momenttranscript of an elaborately got-up rehear-ous a struggle. Equally true to the rule sal of the event, but the event itself revived clearly to the mind's eye of the painter, and set down on that surface by whatever aids might have been required, with perfect freedom from all affectation, and with consummate skill.

We ́e forget soon that it is a picture-we think ourselves breathing in the time when our fathers were young men on that day and on that spot when and where the destinies of Europe were being settled. There, at the end of that long day of Waterloo, when three hundred thousand men had contended to decide whether one being and his will should be dominant, or the rest of Europe be in peace to work out higher destinies, is the scene brought before us. It makes one's eyes moist to look over the wreck of human beings that crowd the foreground of the picture; one can almost, in fancy, hear the guns still firing-hear the shouting and the sounds of the fierce struggle that passes on beyond the ridge, on which the strife is still living between the guards, who are attacking the retreating French artillery and its drivers; while in the mid-distance,

of a different nature are the countenance and action of Wellington, who looks subdued by his long anxiety-his long witnessing of the circumstances of the scene

their misery, agony, and horror. He is full enough of vigor of a kind equal to many duties, but he can spare no outward display of violent evidences of emotionhe could be taken for none but a successful general at the very moment of victory crowning his life; but he is tired, and withal very sad, so that one recognizes and sympathizes with and honors him infinitely, as the man who shortly after the stern rigor of his battle-strung nerves had melted away, shed tears at the agony of the poor maimed wretches that lay dismembered, wounded, and torn about the field in thousands.

Just behind the heads of the generals is the sign of the inn, "La Belle Alliance," appropriately written upon a board fixed against the wall of the house. Blücher's trumpeters stand to the left of the picture, trumpet at lip, ready to sound the signal of advance. Behind Wellington are his aides-de-camp, all regarding the main in

cident with life-like and unaffected interest, each man true in character to the class-handsome and well-bred, but shallow-souled men, with, however, upon their countenances a certain seriousness imparted by their position. One of them, a man of riper years, with a face of some strength of character, evincing intelligence and forceful will, has just been shot down and has fallen to die with the herd.

This is probably an historical figure, and the incident represented an actual occurrence; he looks like a husband and a father, and one wonders how at the moment his poor wife and children breathe, and one curses more bitterly for their sake the bullet that struck him. Still more active is one's pity for those amongst the fallen who still feebly and painfully live. Two of these, whose distorted faces show the effort it costs them, are raising their arms to welcome the new army, while another, a trumpeter, left without power to move his body, is turning his eyes in vain in the attempt to see the Prussian general, his eyes doomed only to look on the sinking sun; he can sympathize with but little else any more.

One group is formed by a dying Hanoverian, attended by his priest, who is administering extreme unction, and looking with the keenest anxiety to see whether there is any spark of life left. A vivandiere standing close by shares this anxiety with the priest. On the opposite side is a surgeon, with about equal hope, feeling the pulse of another man who lies in a swoon, to detect whether it is not the final death-swoon. One man has had the amputation-screw fixed on his arm to stay hemorrhage until the surgeon can get time from more pressing cases to deal with his. There he is left, with outstretched arm and fingers strained and rigid. We see at once that there are, indeed, many more pressing cases than his, for he is already going fast beyond the reach of human ministration. Another has fallen upon the body of a gun, which hard, cold support has been shattered, mayhap by the same shot which slew the man. One must needs ask, was it for this that God made these men-for this that he gave them a mother's care-that he brought them food and gave them shelter; that he led others to work for them, reap the corn and tend the herds, watch the clouds and the sunshine, dig the coal and ore out of the earth, and beat it into shape for use; was

the last merely for shot and shell, lancehead and saber? Did he for this make the cotton grow, and teach men to strive even with his own elements, and lead the sailors to risk the tempests in the sea? Was it for this, indeed, that he gave them teachers for the eye and the ear? were the preacher, and the poet, and the painter for this end given? Did he for this lift up their heads to love one another, and teach them to bear the misfortunes of their lot, and the penalties of their faults in patience. Alas! alas! was He moving them through all for this hard fate and bloody end-only for this?

It were too bitter to think thus, even if we did not know that amongst that mass of men, confused in heaps, with dying horses and broken instruments of death and shattered symbols of glory, there lies many a one whose last grasp of the hand or last warm kiss of love is the cherished blessing of long deserved affection of many dear hearts-waiting now-praying now, in hope that he may come again and be the sole comforter of their life in the years when peace has been won.

Surely it is well to have such a scene as this as a silent monitor to the members of our government, when they have the destinies of peace and war to decide. Who was the guilty author of the war which this battle ended it is not our place to say; but very often we feel that war has been hurried on without enough thought of the individual misery it would entail. Perhaps some such realization of the fact as may be given by the art which places the battle before us now, would have in some silent, secret manner deterred the rulers of the nation from indulging a thirst for such dearly bought glory. When the deaf accustomed ear will not listen, the glance of the unguarded and uncontrollable eye may fall upon this picture, and in the future appeal to a judgment higher than reason, counsel the feelings to patience, and mercy, and moderation, and save the nation from the curse of madness and hardness of heart. This is one of the functions of art. The voice of the prophet of woe and the preacher may fall upon heedless ears; but at some moment of doubt and hesitation the strange call to reflection through another and less hackneyed sense may have, and doubtless many times has had, an effect mysterious, untrackable, but yet potent for good. Maybe, too, such pictures as this may have

some force in cleansing the hearts of the humbler citizens from vice which the eternal justice of God visits in punishment, by leaving nations, as individuals, to them

selves, until the curse can no longer be averted, and it falls, like this battle fell, in ruinous desolation.

THE

DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

WITH the accurate and imposing por⚫trait of this renowned commander of British armies and hero of an hundred battles, and the conqueror of Napoleon on the memorable and sanguinary field of Waterloo, it is fitting to send to our readers a brief outline biographical sketch of his eventful life. The portrait is life-like. We have seen the original face often, and love to gaze upon one whose eyes have looked out upon such tremendous scenes of battle and carnage.

ordered abroad, and formed part of the British contingent, which marched across from Ostend, under Lord Moira, to join the allied army in Flanders. He bore an active part in the campaign which followed, and distinguished himself so much in several actions with the enemy, that though only a captain in rank, he came at length to execute the duties of major, and did good service in several well-fought affairs of the rear guard in which he bore a part. Though the issue of the campaign Arthur Wellesley, afterwards Duke of was unfortunate, and it terminated in the Wellington, was born at Dangan Castle disastrous retreat through Holland in in Ireland, on May 1, 1769. Marshal Ney, 1794, yet it was of essential service in Goethe, and several of the greatest men training Wellesley to the duties to which of the age, were born in the same year. he was hereafter to be called, for it was His father was Lord Mornington, an Irish with an army at one time mustering nobleman, but he was of Norman blood, ninety thousand combatants that he had being lineally descended from the stand- served; and his first initiation into the ard-bearer to Henry II., in his conquest duties of his profession was with the great of Ireland in the year 1100. His elder bodies which he was afterwards destined brother, who succeeded to the family to command, and his first insight into honors, was a man of great genius and war was on a great scale, to which his capacity, who afterwards became gov- own achievements were one day destined ernor-general of India, and was created to form so bright a contrast. After the Marquis Wellesley. Thus the same fami- return of the troops from Holland, the ly had the extraordinary fortune of giving thirty-third regiment was not again called birth to the statesman whose counsel and into active service till 1799, when it was rule preserved and extended the British sent out to India, to reinforce the troops empire in the Eastern, and the hero there on the eve of the important war, in whose invincible arm saved his country which Lord Wellesley, his elder brother, and conquered Napoleon in the Western who was now governor-general, was enworld. Young Arthur Wellesley, after gaged with the forces of Tippoo Saib. having received the elements of education Young Wellesley went with them, and at Eton, was sent to the military school on his way out his library consisted of of Angers in France to be instructed in two books, which he studied incessantlythe art of war, for which he already the Bible, and Cæsar's Commentaries. evinced a strong predilection. He re- War having broken out in 1803 between ceived his first commission in the army in the East-India Company and the Mahratthe thirty-third regiment, which to this tas, General Wellesley, to which rank he day is distinguished by the honor then had now been promoted, received the conferred upon it. The first occasion on command of one of the armies destined to which he was called into active service operate against them. After having was in 1793, when his regiment was stormed the strong fortress of Achmed

naghur, which lay on the road, he came | low up his victory by marching the same up with the Mahratta force, thirty thou- evening to Torres Vedras, where he sand strong, posted at the village of would be between Junot and Lisbon, and Assaye. Wellesley's forces, at the mo- would either drive him to a disastrous rement, did not exceed four thousand five treat or force him to surrender. But at hundred men, of whom only seventeen this critical moment, when the order had hundred were European; and the half of just been dispatched for this decisive his army, under Col. Stevenson, was at a movement, Sir H. Burrard arrived, and distance, advancing by a different road, took the command. He belonged to the separated from his own by a ridge of old school, with whom it was deemed intervening hills. But justly deeming the enough to fight one battle in one day, and boldest course in such critical circum- he gave orders to halt. Junot, in consestances the most prudent, he took the quence, hastened back to Torres Vedras, resolution of instantly attacking the enemy without losing an hour, and regained the with the small body of men under his capital. Sir H. Dalrymple soon afterwards immediate command. The result showed arrived, and concluded the famous conthe wisdom as well as heroism of the vention of Cintra, by which the French determination. After a desperate strug- evacuated the whole of Portugal. That gle, in which he himself charged a Mah- convention excited unbounded indignation ratta battery at the head of the seventy- in England at the time; but Sir A. Welfourth regiment, the vast army of the lesley justly supported it, for, when the enemy, which comprised eighteen thou- opportunity of cutting off Junot from Lissand splendid horse, was totally defeated, bon had been lost, it was the best thing all their guns, ninety-seven in number, that could be done. Next year, still taken, and their army entirely dispersed. more operations were undertaken. Sir General Wellesley was made a Knight of Arthur, who had now been appointed to the Bath for this victory, and he returned the sole command of the army in Portuto England Sir Arthur Wellesley. His gal, landed at Lisbon on April fourth, and next employment was at the expedition by his presence restored the confidence under Lord Cathcart to Copenhagen, in which had been much weakened by the 1807, on which occasion he commanded a disastrous issue of Sir John Moore's camdivision of the army. He was not en- paign in the close of the preceding year. gaged in the siege, but commanded a His first operation was to move against corps which was detached against a body Marshal Soult, who had advanced to of Danes twelve thousand strong, who Oporto, with twenty thousand men, and had collected, in the rear of the British taken that city. By a bold movement he force, in the island of Zealand. They effected the passage of the Tagus, under were dispersed without much difficulty the very guns of the enemy, and drove by a body of seven thousand men, under the French to so rapid a retreat, that he Sir Arthur Wellesley. After the fall of partook of the dinner which had been Copenhagen he returned to England, and prepared for Marshal Soult! The French was nominated soon after to the command, general, by abandoning all his guns and in the first instance, of an expeditionary baggage, effected his retreat into Galicia, force of ten thousand men, which was but not without sustaining losses as great fitted out at Cork, to cooperate with the as Sir John Moore had done in the prePortuguese in rescuing their country ceding year. He next turned towards from the tyrannic grasp of the French Spain, and having effected a junction with Emperor. The expedition set sail in June, the Spanish general, Cuesta, in Estrama1808, and landed on the coast of Portugal dura, their united forces, sixty thousand when they were soon assailed by General strong, but of whom only twenty thousand Junot, who had marched out of Lisbon, were English and Portuguese, advanced with nineteen thousand men, to drive him towards Madrid. They were met at into the sea. The British force consisted Talavera by King Joseph, at the head of of sixteen thousand, and, as this was the forty five thousand of the best French first time the troops of the rival nations troops in Spain. A desperate action of had met in the peninsula, great interest two days duration ensued, which fell was attached to the conflict. The French almost entirely on the English and Portuwere defeated after a sharp action; and guese, as the Spaniards, who were thirtySir Arthur had made preparations to fol- eight thousand in number, fled at the first

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