Since the preceding portion of this volume was sent to press, the melancholy event which was then feared has taken place, and the narrow tomb now encloses that heart which, while it continued to beat, embraced the interests and well-being of thousands. What I anticipated has already taken place—all parties join in eulogizing his worth and virtues. Rancour and fierce hatred have even been disarmed of their venom; but words can but very inadequately convey the feeling produced by his death throughout the army. They now naturally look round with intense anxiety for the individual who is to succeed him. The Duke of Wellington, in point of military ability, seems the most likely; but, judging from the past, I would say, he will not be to the army what the Duke of York has been. He may concoct, arrange, and put in practice, plans for their discipline and equipment—he may lead them to victory, as he has done before; but his name will never be the key-note to the warm and grateful feelings of the soldier, when it strikes on his ear, to send the blood in tingling currents from the heart to the cheek. Yet I may be mistaken: when the country at large is progressing rapidly in just sentiment and liberality of thinking, and enlightened views in the government of every department are taking the place of the more severe and austere rules of the old school, it is doing injustice to the Duke of Wellington, to believe that he will remain stationary. If he should assume the command, he will have a glorious opportunity of treading in the footsteps of his royal predecessor, and of adding to his great military qualities all those minor (but not less important) qualifications which excite men’s gratitude and esteem, and will enable him to live in the hearts of those under his command. His claims to the character of a hero will then be complete, and as such his name will be handed down to posterity.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] That such men should possess the confidence of the people of Ireland, that they should expect any assistance from them, or how the bombastic declamation and frothy venom, which they spew forth at public meetings, can have any other effect than to produce disgust, is to me not a little wonderful. The emancipation of the Catholics may be retarded, but it will never advance one step under the direction of men possessed of so much zeal, and so little judgment.
THE EVENTFUL LIFE OF A SOLDIER.
CHAPTER I.
THE RETURN.
The regiment I belonged to had been serving in the Peninsula from the early part of 1810, during that harassing and apparently interminable war; for campaign after campaign succeeded each other, and although we gained splendid victories in each, we generally found ourselves taking up our winter quarters on the same ground from whence we had set out.
At the close of 1812, after a weary and disastrous retreat from Madrid, we were again quartered in Portugal; here we remained for five months, during which the most active and energetic preparations were made for the ensuing campaign, which commenced in May, 1813. A series of successes almost unexampled enabled us to winter in France, and the battle of Toulouse in April, 1814, concluded a war which had drained the country of men and treasure. With feelings which none can know but those who have toiled through fields of death, we received the order to embark for Britain, and it was with little regret that we lost sight of the fair shores of France, ‘with its bright beaming summers exhaling perfume.’ Far dearer to our imaginations were the ‘humble broom bowers’ of our native land, ‘where the blue bell and gowan lurks lowly unseen.’ On the voyage homeward, hope smiled triumphant, dreams of joy and bliss took the place of disappointment and despair. Yet often in sleep did my imagination return to those fields of strife and rapine that we had left; the agony of disappointed hope again shed its chilling mildew on my soul, and I awoke expecting to hear the sound of the bugle or the roar of artillery; but the picture was reversed—‘sorrow did not now return with the dawning of morn.’
Our voyage homeward was short and pleasant. Ireland was our destination, and having anchored in the Cove of Cork, we proceeded to disembark in lighters.