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taloons and Hessians, the fashion of the day, and of which a solitary pair, a relic of the glories of Hoby, still gladden the shady side of Pall Mall. The Duke on that memorable 18th was up long before daybreak, shaved himself by candlelight, and went forth trimly dressed as a bridegroom from his chamber, and as little resembling the bearded illote Gaul as his heart could desire, for to be as unlike the French in the field as possible' was his main point. He scouted all the fancy-ball paraphernalia, and tourniquets of lace of the Prince Regent, who played at soldiers, and thought it indifferent how a soldier is * clothed, provided it is in a uniform manner, and that he is .forced to keep himself clean and smart as a soldier ought to be.' *L'habit ne fait pas le moine,' nor the man of war: "Believe me that every one you see in a military uniform is not a hero.' So wrote one who was one, to Mr. Croker.

Simplex munditiis himself, he carried the coquetry of costume contrast so far, that he attended (says Mr. Larpent) the allied review at Paris in his usual blue coat and white neckcloth, and thus became,– like Lord Castlereagh, the only one without star in the galaxy of the Vienna Congress,—at once the most distinguished. We must notice another of his methods to make himself the observed of all observers, — his white cloak' (vol. iii. p. 46.): this he wore invariably on the days of battle, and before it commenced, in order that he might be recognised at once, and no time lost in bringing him communications. Rally round my white plume,' was the cry of Henry IV., and there is much virtue in cloaks in Spain, as to what they reveal and conceal. Our younger readers well know that Cato and Virgil were laughed at for their awkward togas, and that Cicero espoused the cause of Pompey because he inferred from Cæsar's clumsy cloak arrangements that he never could turn out to be anything great. The Dictator improved, and nothing at last fidgetted him more than disturbing the sinus of the mantle, “the * same he wore the day he overcame the Nervii,' and which he arranged when dying as if it had been his last testament. This

white cloak’ of the Duke, which braved so many a battle and breeze, worthily might have formed his shroud, as the Moor Almanzor, who overran Spain, arrayed himself in every combat with a Bernous, and when each day was gained, shook out the dust into a chest, to form a glorious grave when his course was run.

The Duke, we may whisper, was from early life a dandy in his way, and not singular, --witness his veteran comrades Lords Anglesea and Combermere, than whom two braver and better dressed officers do not exist. The Duke's, the best known man

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in London, soldierlike regulation look, is familiar as household words; his white trowsers appeared as regularly as May blossoms. Napoleon, it may be observed, was no less vain of his redingote grise than the Duke was of his ‘grey coat,' which distinguished the master from the men, the Emperor from the melodramatic gilt gingerbread Murats. It must not, however, be inferred that the plain and neat Duke was insensible to decorations won in fair fight. He accepted them without false modesty, and wore them without ostentation, as the natural recognition of good service; yet, had he died young, like Alexander the Great, history might have pronounced him no less vain. •We have,' says Mr. Larpent, three Spanish songs (not exactly by Dryden) in • honour of Wellington; one, the Retreat of Marmont, " Ahe « “ Marmont, onde vai Marmont,” [“ Ay de Marmont, donde vas ““ Marmont,"] composed at Cadiz, when he was there. Lord Wellington sits and hears his own praises in Spanish with considerable coolness, and calls for it himself, at times.' (Vol. i. p. 97.) He was, in truth, always pleased with Salamanca, where he out-generalled that Marshal, and considered his best of battles ; and he liked praise — ažios wv. He well knew his own worth, and constantly, when he gave advice, would add, All 'must now go right, and when did Nelson ever doubt or hesitate, in his prescriptions of the Nelsonic touch'?

The Duke, satiated at last, grew callous to compliment. It is interesting to compare him at Toulouse and Oxford. Mr. Larpent describes the former scene, and the post-prandial enthusiasm :- When Alava proposed his health in his presence, as the Liberator of Spain,' a toast followed by a cheering, 'all ‘in confusion, for nearly ten minutes, when Lord Wellington • bowed, confused, and immediately called for coffee.' (Vol. iii. p. 138.) Look on that picture, and then on this, of the Installation, drawn by Lord Ellesmere: - As the whole theatre rose to the fever height of hexameters and pentameters at the climax, Napoleon bowed to thy genius, Prince of Waterloo,' the Duke •

,' sat stern, immovable; retaining a grave complacency of his features.'

And here, having quoted the Marmont version of Malbrok s'en va-t-en guerre song, some notice must be made of the multitudinous misprints, mistakes, and mis-spellings which occur throughout these volumes in everything appertaining to the * things of Spain.' Neither language nor nomenclature, grammar nor geography, things nor persons, escape, from the king, El Rey Pepe, -or, as he is here called, .ré papé,'-downwards. Sorauren, celebrated site, turns up as Sahaugen three times in one page; and when we learn that the French rob

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and destroy to a man, this Spanish truism, ‘Los Franceses * roban y rompen todos, runs thus in the pure Larpentian or unknown tongue : Francese roben, rompas todas.' (Vol. ii. p.

129.) But enough of this : the style of these letters, themselves careless and characterised by colloquial expressions barely permissible in the most slippered ease of family privacy, bears the stains of gunpowder, gravy, and oil, certainly not that of the midnight lamp. Yet, as this journal was never destined for the ordeal of print and the public eye, the writer is entitled to an acquittal at our critical bar, and to the honours of a review. Nay, we question, had he survived to make a book,' whether it would not have lost much of its great charm, -the genuine expression of facts and feelings written down at the actual moment. Be that as it may, we, who have willingly taken him as he is, for better or worse, cannot part from a companion so pleasant without a brief notice of his Peninsular career from the commencement to the close.

Mr. Larpent embarked in 1812 on board the Vulture,' landed at Lisbon, found impostors as plentiful as moskitoes,' started for Spain, and had learnt to decline the verb‘rough it,' in every tense, present and future, before he reached thrice-learned Salamanca. He found the country of his route like Bagshot Heath combined with Dartmoor (minus the mutton) and strewed with relics of defunct dynasties and religions. The particular line of march was marked, Juggernaut-like, by skeletons of men and horses, whose heads, thirteen in a row,' occasionally served as 'stepping-stones' across rivers, –a Spanish variety of the Pons Asinorum. Mr. Larpent details, with graphic goodnature, his Robinson Crusoe life of make-shifts in his wretched quarters; and why should he complain, when the hovel at Frenada of the great Duke himself does not contain either so

much room or as much comfort as the Leg of Mutton and · Cauliflower Inn at Ashted ?' (Vol. i. p. 119.) It was idle, however, to complain. The Duke's maxim was, Let

· ' every one do his duty well, and never let me hear of any

difti. 'culties about anything.' (Vol. ii. p. 213.) Those who were good at making excuses were seldom, in his opinion, good for much else : the word “impossible' was blotted out of his dictionary, and he never required anything beyond the possible. It is the distinguishing this nice point, what can be done and what cannot, which decides the real General, and he was full of resources in himself. Thus, at the passage of the Adour, when the engineers were at fault from want of planks, • There are 'the platforms of your batteries,' said he, which have been

sent out in case of a siege; cut them all up.' • What, then,

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when we proceed with the siege, is to be done?' < work

your guns in the sand until you can make new ones out of the pine-wood near Bayonne.' (Vol. ii. p. 306.) So the river was crossed. Thus when, at Ciudad Rodrigo, scaling ladders were wanting at the last moment, —-Well,' said the Duke, you have brought up your ammunition and stores,

never mind the waggons, cut them all up directly; they will • make excellent ladders : there, you see, each side-piece is • already cut.' (Vol. iii. p. 6.) So the city was won. Everything, great and small alike, came within the power of his grasp. A Spanish kitchen chimney takes fire from his unusual hospitality, and he forthwith is out in the rain with his hat off, ' a silk handkerchief on his head, giving directions' to have it extinguished. (Vol. ii. p. 289.)

He delighted in every one who was always in his right place at the right time, and with the right thing; – hence his marked partiality for Colonel Dickson, of the Artillery, the branch of the service at which he railed the most' for slowness. He found Dickson's match always lighted,' and his guns up;' and his commendation of him in the Gazette' and out of the Gazette' were constant and more courteous than on some other occasions; thus, when Colonel Framingham, a most gallant officer, but slow, started some difficulty, the curt reply of his Grace was, that he might go to h-'a place never named to ears polite; but he recovered his temper, and laughed well, when the Colonel said he would apply to the Quartermaster• General for a route.' (Vol. i. p. 150.)

Our readers have already been told how long Mr. Larpent worked at his desk, and on what short commons. Nevertheless, the winter slipped away, for time and the hour runs through the roughest day. May, 1813, found the army and the JudgeAdvocate in high health and spirits, preparing for the glorious campaign which opened at Vittoria and terminated at Toulouse : and here we find mention of an illustrious 'amateur' in the camp, Lord John Russell, who just missed the grand catastrophe, by having started on an excursion to Juste, to the cloister retreat of Charles V., which Mr. Stirling has brought home to all of us. Soon the Duke, rising in his stirrups, bad Portugal adieu for ever, and assumed the aggressive. Meantime, Mr. Larpent was joined to the left wing of the army, which, by crossing the Douro and Ebro, high up and near the sources, at once turned the enemy's strong positions in front, an operation of itself equal to an ordinary campaign. For six days our veterans worked their way through untrodden wilds, until, “trickling from the mountains, they burst like raging streams from

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' every defile, and went foaming into the basin of Vittoria.” Mr. Larpent travelled with the cash-chest, and Mr. Commissary Price; and dear • Mrs. Price gave us one evening a syllabub after tea.' (Vol. i. p. 189.) His emotions overflowed at the sight of a country like the Wye, with cliffs almost like • Cheddar, and wooded to the water. The picturesque scene was heightened by the long lines of horse and foot, whose arms glittered in the sun, whose clarions awoke the echoes, and whose march gave life to the usual solitudes.

Drawing, it seems, was hazardous : our artist no sooner sits down than a musket ball whistles by — a second, and a third ; “

a • and when, at last, he considered himself the object, the sketch * was left, rather in a hasty and unfinished state. One finished picture, with his pen, must therefore suffice. Most of us have

encamped; Lord Wellington and Marshal Beresford are walk‘ing up and down; the military secretary is writing under a wall, upon his knees, in a little field; Colonel Scovel, Fitzclarence, General Alava, Colonel Waters, the Prince of • Orange, and your humble servant, all lying upon the ground * together, round a cold ham and bread, some brandy, and a

bottle of champagne - and no bad fare either, you will say. • The Prince and Lord Fitzroy, like two boys, were playing * together all the time.' (Vol. ii. p. 229.)

. Mr. Larpent was present at Vittoria, and had a capital view of the battle, keeping judiciously close to Dr. Macgregor, the head of the hospitals. He describes the martial panorama, and the deed done on a site worthy of it, and of the name of good omen. There the foe was beaten, before the town, in the town, and

out of the town.' We have a sketch, à la Jansteen, of their rout, and the wreck of the accumulated pillage of five years' plunder in the Peninsula, when every Frenchman stole, from the marshal to the fraction of the drummer-boy. The soil was strewed with doubloons, monkeys, pâtés de foie gras, ladies, and very strange things,' sent, we believe, to the Horseguards, for the especial merriment of the Royal Commander-in-Chief. Our gallant journalist saved Madame Gazan, wife of the French General, and refrained from other temptations, taking for his spolia opima only a case of maps, part of Lopez's provincial set, and a horse-cloth, which I bought of a

Portuguese soldier, as a memorial; but I would not meddle • with the rest, as not very correct. Maps, books, &c. were thown aside; brandy, &c. drunk.' (Vol. i. p. 246.)

p ) If our conscientious Judge had his lawful share of the joys and fruits of battle, he could not be blind, even in the dazzle of victory, to the dark foil by which it was heightened. The faith

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