ART. II.-1. Wellingtoniana: Anecdotes, Maxims, and Opinions of the Duke of Wellington. By JOHN TIMBS. Crown 8vo. London: Ingram and Cooke, 1852.

2. Memoir of the Duke of Wellington. 16mo. London: Longmans, 1852.

3. Life of Arthur, Duke of Wellington. By SIR JAMES ALEXANDER. 2 vols, 8vo. London, 1840.

4. Life of the Duke of Wellington. By J. H. MAXWELL. 3 vols. 8vo. London: Bohn, 1850.

5. Historia del Levantamiento, Guerra, y Revolucion de Espana, desde 1808 hasta 1814. Por el Conde de Toreno. 5 tomos, en 3 vols.

8vo. Paris: Baudry, 1849.

6. Life of Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington. By J. H. STOCQUELER, Esq. Illustrated Loudon Library.

IF anything we are about to say should seem to reflect

on the memory of an illustrious character, destined to live not more in the pages of our history than in the heart of every Englishman, we earnestly and from the first disclaim such a purpose. The name of the Duke of Wellington is, by many a just title, among our household words. For high practical genius, dedicated without reserve, and through a long life of peace and war, to the service of his country; for an inflexible integrity of purpose which has become almost proverbially attached to him; for a lofty yet simple-hearted indifference to the opinions or the advantages of that world wherein he pursued so brilliant a career, when weighed in the balance against the sterner dictates of right; for humanity and moderation amid intoxicating triumphs; for the unshaken fortitude that would have borne him through all possible reverses; nay, for a more than decorous attention to such observances of religion as came naturally within his reach: that thrice-honoured personage needs no further praise than a grateful and sorrowing nation has already poured forth upon his ashes.

His was a character tested during campaigns and political convulsions; standing out in strong relief against the rival mind with whom, in the designs of Providence, he was framed to cope, and whose towering onward force his indomitable resistance was to stay; a character, finally, subjected to the gaze of the camps and cabinets of Europe,

during a longer period than usually falls to the lot of public men, and in all, from first to last, found consistent and unchanging. Far be it, then, from us, to refuse to swell that popular voice of tribute which the heroic object of such demonstrations was the last to consider of any consequence to himself. Far be it from us to deny one tittle of the qualities of real greatness that descend, in their measure, from above, even as the better gifts of the supernatural order of grace.

There is something truly pleasurable in the thought of one whose great endowments are tempered with a manly simplicity that invites us to claim our share in him as belonging in some sense to ourselves. Moreover, we never can forget that to the Duke of Wellington's perception of justice and unembarrassed good sense we owe, under God, the breaking of an odious and cruel yoke from the necks of one class of his countrymen. The Duke was the Catholic emancipator. And as during life he obtained the well-earned meed of Catholic prayers, so now do we follow his memory with regrets deeper (we venture to affirm) and more distinct than some that have been enunciated louder, and more widely heard.

If, however, we felt in the moment of losing him that, amid so much that was truly possessed, there was still something to desire, and that the treasury of his excellencies, ample as it was, lacked one "captain jewel in his carcenet," that feeling has become more vivid by the unavoidable contrast exhibited in a kindred and yet more

recent event.

Another great man has been taken from the earth; a personal ally of him for whom England is now in mourning; his coadjutor in several of the heroic passages of the Peninsular war, and up to the entrance of the allied armies into France. Don Francisco Xavier Castanos, afterwards named Duke of Baylen from his decisive victory at that place over the French, has quitted the world within a short month of his illustrious brother in arms. He was "the Wellington of Spain." Devoted from his earliest boyhood to the military career, in which he rose with rapidity, he pursued a round of service in various campaigns with scarcely less renown than his British prototype, until he appeared with him in the closing scenes of that great drama which reached its climax in the downfal of Napoleon. He then remained in Catalonia as Captain-general,

and is said to have "gained the affections of the inhabitants by his rectitude, moderation, and good-nature. "During the present reign,"-(we continue to quote from the sketch of his life which appeared in the Morning Chronicle,)" Castanos has filled the high office of President of the Council of Castile, and that of the Regency. He has been also senator, and guardian of the Queen and Infanta, and he preserved to the last the command of the royal corps of halberdiers. Besides the title of the Duke of Baylen, with the grandeeship of the First Class, he had the Toison d'or, and all the great crosses, civil and military, with numerous decorations for military exploits.

Thus far we have before us two noble portraits. They are those of brothers in arms, men destined to move through a period of great commotion, and thereby brought easily and naturally above the surface, but possessed of talents and a moral force that would have won their way to eminence in any condition of things. There are, moreover, features of resemblance between them which invest this juxtaposition with still further interest:

"The habits of General Castanos are described as having been very simple and methodical. He was accustomed to rise at daybreak, and soon afterwards a chaplain entered his room, and said mass after which, he took chocolate, in which the chaplain participated. Between eight and ten he had two newspapers-one opposition and one ministerial-read to him. After that he went out, and always visited the church where the Forty Hours were celebrated, (sic) and on his return read his private correspondence. He dined at five, and as soon as the meal was over, he drove out for a time, and on his return retired to his tertulia till ten, p. m.; when he took a glass of milk and went to bed. He had only three servants, and his establishment was altogether of the most modest description."

Simplicity and plainness, the modesty of a truly great mind, whether resulting from a just estimate of the worth of popular opinion, or from a real sense of not having reached its own ideal-a quality always so engaging; that sterling good sense and solidity of judgment which the most brilliant attributes require to give them reality and permanence: these high gifts, encountering such opportunities as come round once in a century, have combined to give "the Duke" his inalienable place in our lips and hearts.

From the scanty notices given us of his brother-Duke of

the Peninsular, Baylen seems to have been in these respects, if not the transcript, yet the close resemblance of Wellington. Strike out of the comparison the accidentals of politics and nation. Place one hero in a condition of things turbulent and insecure as that of Spain, and the other among the waves of English faction, which, however angrily they may foam, have (thank God) scarce ever been tinged with blood. Adorn the latter with a constant marked respect from the successive crowned heads of a tranquil dynasty, honours equally graceful for the sovereign to render and for the subject to receive. Give him votes of thanks from the Houses of Parliament as each victory eclipsed the foregoing; the freedom of cities; costly presentations from merchant-princes and ancient chartered corporations, suitable to the wealth and importance of their donors:-accessories, all of them, in the English portrait, that richly fill up the back-ground without distracting the eye from the features that stand out prominently from among them. The twin-picture is necessarily drawn in somewhat ruder style; for the scene is laid amid sanguinary civil strife, wars of succession, and a general state of civilisation bearing traces of the convulsions that have rent and disordered it. And thus, to continue our metaphor, notwithstanding the family likeness on which we insist, the one is given to us by the pencil of Sir Thomas Lawrence; and the expression, though simple, is polished, calm, and dignified. The other, equally soldier-like, and quite as original, could not well escape a touch of Caravaggio, or Salvator Rosa.

But if, apart from national accidental differences, we divest these great men of what Lear would have called their sophistications, and come to the essence ;-if we disencumber the one of his cap of maintenance, chancellor's robes, and garter, and the other of his grandeeship, his crosses and toison d'or ;-if we dismiss the first lord of the treasury, and the president of the Council of Castile,supersede the warden of the Cinque Ports and the commander of royal halberdiers, - sink on either side the military commands and civil presidencies, the badges, collars, and ribbons, that festoon themselves around those stately trunks; we then come from the glitter to the greatness, from the rind to the core of their majesty, and reach the inner principle of that magnanimity that gave

form and meaning to the mere adjuncts of which it was so independent.

Follow the two dukes severally from the state apartments in which they have filled their exalted place; from the presence of a confiding sovereign; from a crowd of subordinates, and circle of admirers. They remain simply themselves, and retain still a generic likeness to each other. The early hours, the "three servants," and the glass of milk," form the Spanish counterpart to the abstemious fare and narrow little camp-bed at Stratfieldsay. And we doubt not that Field-Marshal the Duke of Baylen used to "present his compliments" to all irrelevant enquirers in as laconic Castilian as was ever penned.

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Here ends the parallel. And here begins,-shall we say the contrast? It would be so, but that we are pre-determined to touch as lightly and tenderly as may be on one side of the comparison, and approach to contemplate deficiencies we cannot but be keenly alive to, as Edmund Burke bids us examine the wounds of a parent, "with pious awe and trembling solicitude.' We are simply bent on illustrating a principle; and the focus of our observation is turned upon an individual, whose whole stamp, both by light and shade, embodies and eminently illus

trates it.

If it be said that individuals cannot be independent of their native system, and that a great man, born and bred in a sect too narrow for him, stands at very evident disadvantage beside one whose religious instincts have expanded within the broad bosom of the Church; this is but the final assertion on which our remarks concentrate.

The occurrences at Walmer Castle on the fourteenth of September, are fresh in the minds of all. It was a scene of unlooked-for seizure and rapid decease. Much may have passed within, during that brief space; much more may have been passing within during the long tranquil evening of that unclouded day of glory which was then closed. These things we leave and do not guess at. We occupy ourselves only with the external fact. And it is the external fact of that solemn juncture, that amid all the appliances which a tender reverential affection could suggest, the needs of the departing soul were the only needs unthought of. Breathless messengers spurred in every direction but that which would have summoned spiritual