SIR ARTHUR WELLESLEY landed in England in September, 1805. Previous to the expedition to Egypt, India was the only school for the acquisition of the higher branches of professional knowledge open to a British officer. It was there only that the operations of war were conducted on a great scale, or experience had yet taught a British army to contend with confidence of victory. It must be regarded, therefore, as a fortunate event in the career of Wellington, that, before contending with the best troops and most skilful generals of Europe, he had been enabled, by a service in India, to receive the full benefit of a preparatory initiation in all the duties of command. That the high functions which there devolved on him exercised a powerful and most beneficial influence, in strengthening the faculties and enlarging the resources of his mind, there can be no doubt. His experience was happily not limited to the comparatively narrow circle of duties purely military. Had it been so, he might probably have become the most skilful strategist, the most expert tactician of the age, and nothing more. But the case was very different. The qualities of the soldier, the diplomatist, and the civil administrator were called into action by the danger which then threatened the very existence of our Indian empire; and the effect, as regarded Wellington, was the acquisition of an amount of practical accomplishment, a widely extended range of knowledge, and a confidence in his own great powers, which subsequently led to the most splendid results.

The period of Sir Arthur Wellesley's residence in India, therefore, though comparatively short, effected a great change both in his character and circumstances. He quitted England, a young and inexperienced officer, enthusiastically devoted to his profession, and with little worldly possession save his "own good sword." In eight years he returned with a high reputation, a mind enlarged by experience, and faculties improved by the exercise of the most difficult and important functions, both military and

political. He had commanded armies, subdued provinces, negotiated treaties, and extended the blessing of mild and impartial government, where it had been before unknown. In short, it is scarcely possible to conceive a combination of circumstances better calculated to produce the complete expansion of a mind like that of Wellington, than those in which the course of events fortunately placed him.

There is one disadvantage, however, inseparable, we fear, from service in the East, namely, the apathy with which the most brilliant achievements in that quarter are regarded at home. No man ever attained any considerable popularity from his services in the East. The scene of action is too remote, and the character of the struggle too different from any thing within the scope of European experience, to excite much sympathy or interest in the people of England. In our various contests in India, the moral feeling of Englishmen has rarely been ranged on the same side with the banners of their country; and under any circumstances, few, even among the educated classes, possess sufficient knowledge to enable them to form a just estimate either of the amount of difficulties overcome, or the importance of the advantages acquired. It is besides a common error to regard the native armies as mere masses of undisciplined barbarians, and to anticipate victory as a consequence necessarily resulting from the superiority of European tactics and British valour. Towards those, therefore, who fight our battles in the East, the thermometer of public feeling uniformly indicates a low temperature; while inferior men have succeeded in rising to distinction by success in less difficult but more popular objects.

We have no doubt Sir Arthur Wellesley felt this on his return to England in 1805. His brilliant services in the East had met with due appreciation from the Government and those conversant with Indian affairs; but to the public in general they were an unknown quantity, and we believe have remained so to the present hour. In truth, great indifference existed

with regard to all military merit which had not been established by successful contest with the generals of Napoleon. The army then enjoyed little of the national confidence, and the assertion that British troops were unable to contend in the field against those of France, had acquired something of the character and authority of an admitted truth. The year 1805, was one of deep national despondency.

The power of Napoleon had reached its zenith, and the public mind was in the lowest state of depression from the apprehension of invasion. Communities, like individuals, have their weak moments, when the spirits flag and the nerves are unstrung, and men tremble "even at the sounds themselves have made." Thus was it at the period in question. An armament had been assembled at Boulogne, and prodigious was the consternation diffused by the flotilla of flatbottomed boats destined to convey it to the shores of Britain. If a few fishing boats were seen off Dover or Ramsgate, the cry of "They come, they come," spread like wild fire, and the whole kingdom of Kent was in an uproar. On the Exchange, where

merchants most do congregate, were daily seen dismal faces, and heard rumours of change-perplexing capitalists. The funds were at the lowest ebb, and even without invasion, national bankruptcy was declared to impend over the devoted country. So deep and general was the panic, that the principle of sauve qui peut was already entered on, not only by many of the middling classes, but of the noblest and wealthiest of the land; men peculiarly called on, by every tie of loyalty and gratitude, to occupy the foremost place of danger, and share the fortunes of their country whatever they might be. We learn from the very interesting memoirs of Sir John Sinclair, lately published, that Lord Beauchamp and many other great proprietors and capitalists, privately purchased land in the United States, with the view of ultimately retiring there. Even men of the most powerful understanding and coolest judgment were disposed to regard the situation of their country with despair. As a proof of this, we shall lay before our readers a few passages from the letters of Bishop Watson, addressed to Sir John Sinclair :

"December 22, 1804.

"7th August, 1805.

"11th Oct. 1806. We may be ruined by it, but we shall

While fear, almost amounting to insanity, thus pervaded all ranks of the community, it was a fortunate cir

cumstance for England that the hands to which the reins of government were confided were neither feeble nor irre