it was by the public. But on the death of Earl Spencer, and the removal of Lord Althorp to the upper house in 1834, the king, to the no small astonishment of the ministry and their supporters, announced his intentions to recall the duke of Wellington to his councils. His grace, however, was strongly of opinion that the office of prime minister should be conferred upon Sir Robert Peel; and as that illustrious statesman was at this crisis on the continent, the duke took charge of the vessel of the state till his return, and was sworn in as first lord of the treasury, and secretary of state for the home department—administering at the same time the affairs of the foreign and colonial departments. On the arrival of Sir Robert from Rome, this temporary arrangement ceased. Peel himself became premier, and the duke accepted the office of foreign secretary. The administration, however, was overturned in the course of a few months. Having been outvoted on the famous Irish church bill. Peel and his colleagues resigned their offices on the 8th of April, 1835; and the duke never again took charge of any of the great civil departments of state. On the return, indeed, of the conservatives to power in 1841, he accepted a seat in the cabinet, but without office; though he took an active part in the councils and proceedings of the government, especially in those relating to the military affairs of the country. The command of the army, which he had resigned on accepting the premiership in 1828, reverted to him on the death of Lord Hill in 1842, and was confirmed to him by patent under the great seal for the term of his natural life. The duties of this important office, which he discharged with unwearied assiduity and the most scrupulous care, necessarily occupied a large portion of his time and attention; but nothing of importance connected with public affairs escaped his notice. When the Irish famine brought the anti-corn law agitation to a crisis, and it became impossible to resist any longer the demand for the repeal of the corn laws, without imminent danger to the peace and even to the constitution of the country, the duke, though his own judgment would have led him to maintain these restrictions on the trade in corn, without hesitation waived his own opinions, and gave his hearty support to Sir Robert Peel in his new policy, rather than see the affairs of the country thrown into confusion and the government ejected from office at this critical juncture in the history of parties. "A good government for the country," he said, "is of more importance than corn laws or any other consideration; and as long as Sir Robert Peel possesses the confidence of the queen and of the public, and he has strength to perform his duties, his administration of the government must be supported." It was mainly through his grace's influence that the opposition of the great territorial magnates of his party to the repeal of the corn laws was withdrawn, and that an angry collision was prevented between the two houses of parliament on this critical question.
On the overthrow of the Peel ministry in 1846, and the complete disorganisation of the conservative party which followed the adoption of a liberal commercial policy, the duke of Wellington formally intimated his final secession from political life, and never again, except on military questions, took any prominent part even in the debates in the house of lords. But his interest in everything relating to the service of the queen, and the welfare of the state, was in no degree abated, and his memorable letter to Sir John Burgoyne on the defenceless state of the country, and his masterly arrangements for the preservation of the peace on the famous 10th of April, are most satisfactory proofs of his unremitting and unselfish devotion to the safety and well-being of the community, and of the vigour and activity of his mind, even in extreme old age. Though not one of "her majesty's advisers" by office, he was incontestably so in fact, for history tells us of no man who was ever summoned more frequently to give counsel to royalty in straits. "Whether the embarrassment was a sudden resignation of the ministry, or an imperfect conception of an administration, or a bedchamber plot, or a dead lock, it was invariably the duke who was called in—sometimes as a man who could do and say to others of all ranks and parties what could be said or done by no other person living, sometimes as an arbiter in whose decision all disputants would concur, sometimes as a pure political fetish to get the state out of trouble, nobody could tell how." He had, in fact, become a distinct power in the state, and always exercised his vast influence solely for what he deemed the public good. His popularity among all classes of his countrymen was something wonderful and quite unique. Wherever he appeared, "the Great Duke" was received with enthusiastic and affectionate greetings, and his sayings and doings, and quaint and amusing letters, were regularly recorded by every newspaper in the kingdom. Titles, offices, and rewards were showered upon him from every quarter, at home and abroad; and both the crown and the parliament exhausted their powers to do him honour. In addition to former grants, the noble domain of Strathfieldsaye in Hampshire, was purchased for him in 1815, and settled on the dukedom. In 1819 he was appointed governor of Plymouth, and in the following year colonel-in-chief of the rifle brigade. He was also made lord-lieutenant of Hampshire, governor of the Tower, lord-warden of the Cinque Ports, and chancellor of the university of Oxford, besides commander-in-chief of the army. Thus loaded with honours, dignities, and wealth, in the enjoyment of the confidence and affection of his sovereign, and the veneration of his fellow-countrymen of all ranks and parties, and surrounded by troops of devoted friends, the old age of the great warrior wore tranquilly away. At length the end came, and suddenly. He was residing at Walmer castle, when on the morning of the 11th September, 1852, he complained that he did not feel quite well. Medical assistance was immediately summoned, but proved entirely unavailing; and at seven in the evening he breathed his last, so calmly and tranquilly, that his attendants could scarcely tell the precise moment when life became extinct. His remains, after lying in state in the Royal Military hospital at Chelsea, were deposited in their last resting place in St. Paul's cathedral, amid the demonstrations of deep grief on the part of the whole nation, and with the utmost pomp and magnificence of ceremony, in which the rank, talent, station, and beauty of Great Britain, and the representatives of all the great powers of Europe, Austria alone excepted, took part.
The universal testimony of his contemporaries has pronounced the duke of Wellington to have been one of the most consummate generals ever known; and there can be no doubt that this opinion will be confirmed by the voice of history. In quickness of observation, powers of calculation, tenacity of memory, coolness, forethought, self-possession, fertility in resources, strength of will, and sterling good sense, he has rarely been equalled—probably never surpassed—by any commander either in ancient or modern times. His genius was equally conspicuous in the creation and in the employment of his materials. He carefully provided against every contingency, left nothing undone which was requisite to gain his ends, and his plans were in consequence almost invariably crowned with success. He showed himself equally master of offensive and of defensive tactics, and he was victorious against all kinds of enemies and in all kinds of warfare. On no other general of his age—not even on Napoleon himself—can the same commendation be bestowed.
The duke of Wellington was called by circumstances to serve his sovereign in the cabinet, as well as in the field; and in the administration of civil affairs he almost always displayed sagacity, good sense, firmness, and energy; but he expressly disclaimed all pretensions to the character of a statesman, and none saw more clearly than himself that the higher and more comprehensive duties of statesmanship required a kind of training which he had never received, and for which it is possible he was not eminently qualified. But he was endowed with administrative talents of a very high order, and, in his own opinion, was peculiarly gifted in matters of finance. He was a singularly expert calculator, and used to say that his true genius was rather for the exchequer than the war office.
The private life of the duke was simple, regular, and methodical; he was most punctual and systematic in the discharge of all his duties, and economical and prudent in the management of his affairs. His character was thoroughly transparent. He had a sacred regard for truth, was remarkable for his justice, integrity, industry, moderation, benevolence, and charity. Duty was the leading principle of his life. Under a cold and reserved exterior he concealed a chivalrous spirit and an affectionate heart, and was a true and unflinching friend, a kind master, and a just and liberal landlord. A regard to truth requires us to add that his temper was very irritable, that he was not happy in his domestic relations, and that some portion at least of the blame must undoubtedly be attributed to himself. His duchess died in 1831, and he left two sons to inherit his titles and estates.
Nature had endowed the duke with a robust frame and an iron constitution. In height he was about five feet nine inches, "his shoulders were broad, his chest well developed, his arms
