eager pursuit of
personal or party objects. But the Duke of Wellington's high reputation
and standing place him above all such considerations. He can afford to
speak the truth, and he does speak it on all occasions fearlessly. While
other speakers, on either side of the house, have been wasting their
powers in fruitless eloquence (mere personal display), or in perverting
the truth for the purpose, either of unfair attack or unfair defence,
the Duke of Wellington has appeared to be paying not the slightest
attention to the proceedings. He has sat absorbed in thought, or at
least in seeming indifference. You would almost suppose that, overcome
by fatigue, or indisposition, he was sleeping, so perfectly motionless
and silent is he, reclining, with folded arms, his legs stretched out
to their full length, and his hat over his brow. The question has been
discussed, argued, disputed upon for hours. No result seems to have been
come to, and you are as ignorant of the object and scope of the measure
as when the debate began; nor have you any clear idea what will become
of the bill.

At length, the Duke of Wellington rises, advances abruptly to the table,
wraps the tails of his coat, like a dressing-gown, over his legs, and
plunges at once _in medias res_. There is an undivided attention while
he speaks, indeed, it is sometimes absolutely necessary, for, when
indisposed, he is often with difficulty heard, even by those near to
him, as, indeed, he himself hears with difficulty, from being deaf on
one side. But in a moment you see that his mind is still as vigorous as
ever. His keen intelligence pierces at once to the very core of the
subject; no fallacy can blind or deceive the Duke of Wellington. He
knows why the measure was introduced, what it is, what it will do, and
what will become of it. He grapples with it in the spirit of a
statesman. He is a guardian of the interests of the nation; he is the
parliamentary trustee of the people; he is bound to look to their
interests as a whole, for by the people he understands, not those who
bawl the loudest about their rights, but those also who trust the
maintenance of their privileges and their interests to parliament, in
silent faith. He never forgets the _salus populi_.

On the other hand, the chap-trap maxims of liberalism, foreign or
domestic, meet from him with just as much credence and attention as
they deserve; he never allows enthusiasm to intrude among political
considerati