exclaiming "All is lost! let those save themselves who can."

The opportune arrival of Blucher, to whom Wellington committed the task of pursuing the fugitives, changed the defeat of Waterloo into an unparalleled and irretrievable disaster, and Napoleon's sun set for ever. "History," says M. Maurel, "cannot show two battles of Waterloo. It was not only a defeat, it was an extermination—it was the shipwreck of a people. On the 18th of June, between sunrise and sunset, the French empire expired. At eight o'clock in the morning it stood erect, with all its hopes; at nine o'clock in the evening it was only a name and a recollection gathered with the past."

The abdication of Napoleon, the march of the allied armies to Paris, and the occupation of the French capital, speedily followed "the crowning mercy" of Waterloo. The Prussians, exasperated by the miseries which their own country had suffered at the hands of the French, plundered and burnt the towns wherever they came; and Blucher avowed his determination to seize Napoleon, if possible, and hang him in front of his army. He also demanded a hundred million francs from the city of Paris, as a war contribution, and was bent on blowing up the bridge of Jena and demolishing the Austerlitz column. But Wellington, by his prudent and dexterous management, succeeded in pacifying the fierce "Marshal Forwards," and in preventing the execution of these furious acts of vengeance. It was owing to his remonstrances, too, that the allied sovereigns were prevented from carrying into effect their unwise and selfish schemes for the dismemberment of France. But he approved of the restoration of the plundered pictures, statues, and other works of art, to the states to which they had originally belonged, and he abstained from interceding in behalf of Marshal Ney—a resolution which may on some grounds be regretted, but was certainly not inconsistent with either duty or justice. In spite of the important services which the duke had rendered to France, his refusal to interfere with the restoration of the works of art made him exceedingly unpopular both with the French court and the people. All classes had previously vied with one another in doing him honour; but now (especially after the execution of Marshal Ney) he was regarded with a feeling of bitter personal hostility. His life was even twice attempted by assassins; once when a quantity of gunpowder and a barrel of oil were placed in his cellar for explosion on the occasion of a ball (25th June, 1816), and again (on the 11th of February, 1818), when a pistol was discharged at his carriage as he entered the gateway of his hotel. The author of this latter attempt was a miscreant named Cantillon, on whom Louis Philippe, after he ascended the French throne, bestowed the place of gamekeeper at Fontainebleau, and to whom Napoleon, avowedly for this very transaction, bequeathed a legacy of ten thousand francs, which the present emperor paid with all the interest accruing thereon, to Cantillon's representatives. The allied sovereigns had agreed, that in order to prevent any recurrence of the desolating war which had been terminated by the victory of Waterloo, an army of occupation consisting of one hundred and fifty thousand men should be maintained in France, at her own expense, for the space of five, or if need arose of seven years; and the duke of Wellington was intrusted, by common consent, with the command of the force charged with this critical duty. A regard to his private interests would have led the duke to recommend the maintenance of this arrangement to its full extent, for his emoluments as commander-in-chief of the army of occupation were magnificent, and his position was exceedingly grand; and most of his colleagues were decidedly in favour of the strict enforcement of the compact. But after the lapse of three years, he felt satisfied that the occupation of the French soil by foreign bayonets was no longer necessary; and at the congress of Aix-la-Chapelle, which met in the winter of 1818, he so earnestly recommended the evacuation of the country by the allied army, that it was immediately carried into effect, and France was restored to its independent dignity among the European nations.

The military career of the duke of Wellington thus came to a close, but by a destiny unexampled in history he survived to give more than one generation of his countrymen the benefit of his civil services. In October, 1818, while attending the congress at Aix-la-Chapelle, he was offered and accepted the office of master-general of the ordnance, with a seat in the cabinet; and immediately after his return to England, on the breaking up of the army of occupation, he took his place as a member of Lord Liverpool's administration. The condition of the country was at this time exceedingly critical. The sudden change from a state of protracted warfare to one of peace had seriously affected all the industrial departments of the kingdom. The agricultural, manufacturing, shipping, and colonial interests were all in a state of depression and suffering. Great multitudes of the working people were thrown out of employment, and in consequence became bitterly hostile both to their employers and the public authorities. Seduced by demagogues into wicked excesses and extravagant demands, they talked treason openly in public meetings, and laid plans for the forcible overthrow of the government. In accordance with the habitual policy of the day, instead of searching out and striving to remove the causes of the existing discontent, the ministry had recourse to the suspension of the habeas corpus act, the suppression of public meetings by the sword, and other stringent coercive measures, in which the duke of Wellington took his part, and reaped in consequence his full share of the odium which accrued to the government. He narrowly escaped assassination at the time of the conspiracy formed by Thistlewood and his gang, but he was the only member of the administration who was not publicly hooted and pelted during the notorious proceedings against the queen. Meanwhile the continent was once more in a state of great excitement, in consequence of the refusal of the various sovereigns to fulfil their promises made during the struggle with Bonaparte, to grant constitutions to their people; and the Spaniards in particular, enraged at the deception practised by Ferdinand VII., had, against his will, remodelled and liberalized the constitution of their country, and had compelled him to give his assent to the change. The congress of Verona, to which the duke of Wellington was appointed a plenipotentiary in 1822, regarded this compulsion in the light of "a political sacrilege;" and it was agreed that France should suppress the new Spanish constitution, and maintain the royal prerogative by force of arms. The duke, however, in the name of his country, protested against this armed intervention; and though his conduct was subsequently questioned and assailed in parliament, he proved that he had faithfully conformed to his instructions on this subject. The old tory cabinet which, under the feeble premiership of Lord Liverpool, had brought the great continental war to a triumphant close, at this period underwent its first material modification. The death of the marquis of Londonderry in 1822 made way for the accession of Mr. Canning to the foreign office, and his influence was soon felt in the measures of the government. The duke from the outset had no great confidence in this brilliant but somewhat shifty and unsafe statesman, and disliked his policy. They continued, however, for some time to act together in promoting the measures of the cabinet without any marked display of hostile feeling; and even after the foreign policy of England had been completely severed from that of the allied courts of the continent, the duke consented in 1826 to go on a special mission to St. Petersburg, for the purpose of promoting a peaceful settlement of the Greek question. But the illness of the earl of Liverpool in February, 1827, brought matters to a crisis. After some delay, and a good deal of intrigue, the vacant office of premier was conferred upon Mr. Canning, on which the majority of his colleagues immediately resigned their offices, and the duke in addition threw up the commandership-in-chief, to which, on the death of the duke of York 5th January, 1827, he had naturally succeeded. "He might serve," he said, "with a colleague in whom his confidence was not settled; he could not possibly serve under him." Nor did his display of dissatisfaction with the new administration stop here; when the corn bill which had been framed by Lord Liverpool's government (though in accordance with the views of Canning and Huskisson) came before the lords in the ensuing June, Wellington moved and carried an amendment destructive of the measure, which was in consequence abandoned. This procedure occasioned an extraordinary agitation in the public mind at the time, and was very generally blamed by moderate men of all parties, though there is no reason to impute it to any other motives than those which the duke openly and frankly avowed. "He was personally averse to an intimate connection with Mr. Canning; he did not desire a liberal government; he did not admire political adventurers; and he was unprepared for a cabinet in which the premier was committed to the policy of Roman catholic emancipation, however open the question might be considered."

This exciting episode, however, was of brief duration. The death of Mr. Canning in the fourth month of his office (August,