mother of sons nobler than the Gracchi. It was to this lady that Wellington wrote again and again with his own hand from the fields of his victories, to soften by words of courteous sympathy the announcement, that her sons, 'brave fellows and an honour to the army,' had been wounded in the actions in which they had played, as always, a conspicuous part. It was compassion for her forlorn and stricken state that moved a generous enemy of England to an act of chivalrous humanity which ought not to be forgotten in balancing the account of honourable rivalry between the two nations. Charles Napier, desperately wounded at Corunna, was missing after the fight his friends supposed him dead, and his family mourned for him; but hope lingered, and after three months the Government sent a frigate to ascertain his fate. Baron Clouet received the flag and hastened to inform Ney. 'Let him see his friends and tell them he is well and well 'treated,' was the answer. Clouet looked earnestly, but moved not, and Ney, smiling, asked what he wanted? He has an old mother, a widow, and blind.'- Has he? then let him 'go himself and tell her he is alive.' The generous kindness of the action is enhanced by the fact that there was at that time a bitter feeling between the two Governments; the exchange of prisoners was not admitted, and Ney risked by this step the displeasure of his chief. Napoleon, however, approved the act.

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The feeling with which, throughout her long life, this mother of heroes was regarded by her sons was that of an intense affection, which neither time nor distance nor the formation of new ties could distract or chill. The affections of the Napiers, like the other elements of their natures, were intensely fervid. Sixteen years after her death, on the eve of completing that daring exploit, the destruction of the desert fortress of Emaum Ghur, Charles Napier writes thus in his journal:-' I dreamed of my mother-her beauteous form smiled upon me-am I going to meet her very soon?' So deeply was this beloved image stamped after the lapse of many years upon the heart of the grim conqueror of Scinde!

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The early education of the Napiers owed little to scholastic aid. William was sent to pick up the elements of knowledge at a large grammar-school at Celbridge, under a queer old 'pedagogue,' as his sister describes the master, totally unfit to conduct the education of such a boy, and from whom, as she declares, he learned nothing.' But his natural aptitude and intelligence, seconded by the aid of a kind and lively female relative, went far to compensate the want of schooling, and

under the voluntary system' thus adopted, his inborn love of knowledge was speedily developed. Though he preferred romances and tales of chivalry, among which Don Bellarmin ' of Greece' was his especial favourite, he read everything he could lay his hands on-history, poetry, travels-all were eagerly devoured. Another book-the cherished study of many a young and ardent mind- Plutarch's Lives'--was constantly in his hands, and imbued him with that passionate admiration for the great men of antiquity which distinguished him through life, and had a marked influence in forming his character. His acquisition of knowledge was aided by great powers of application and by a memory of singular tenacity. We have it on the authority of his most intimate friend General Shaw Kennedy, that at twenty years of age he knew by heart the whole of Pope's Iliad and Odyssey, besides many other poems, and could say off, after once reading, long passages from a newspaper. Yet he must have had great deficiencies in early education to repair through his own after-exertions. Some of his early letters, written between fifteen and eighteen years of age, are preserved, and exhibit such eccentricities in spelling and composition as would make the hair of a Civil Service Commissioner stand on end. Thus he writes when a lieutenant of artillery: I am extreemely miserable at having 'made my father unneassey,' and, two years later, when a cornet of horse:-Charles is a lazy theif, I wrote to him a 'week ago to send or come himself with my ten guineas, and 'has neither sent it nor answered me, the unatural villain.' But the resolute energy and perseverance of the man overcame these difficulties, as they did many greater. A year or two afterwards his letters are not only correct in orthography and grammar, but neatly and well composed. Already he was making strides towards that power of expression which was to stamp him as one of the most vigorous masters of English style.

Yet at the earlier age of fourteen he had been taken from his studies, if so they can be termed, and launched into active life with a commission in the Royal Irish Artillery; from whence he was speedily transferred to the 62nd regiment, and again, by the favour of his uncle the Duke of Richmond, to a cornetcy in the Blues. While in this regiment he came under the notice of Sir John Moore, then engaged in forming his experimental brigade at Shorncliffe, who, pleased with the young soldier's evident zeal for his profession, gave him a commission as ninth Captain in the 43rd regiment. Napier was then only nineteen years old; the regiment was in a

bad state of discipline, and the company which he took was reputed to be its worst: yet in a few months, by his energy and zeal, and the high standard of military duty which he upheld and practised, his company became second to none for orderly conduct and discipline. The character of his general impressed the young officer with a warm and even passionate admiration, which exercised, as will be seen, no small influence on his subsequent career. Moore's noble bearing, his chivalrous spirit, above all, the lofty disinterestedness and purity of his public conduct, captivated his admiration. 'Where shall we find such a king?' he exclaims in one of his letters to his mother. To emulate the soldierly qualities of his model became the object of his youthful ambition. Still more important to himself and to the public were the after consequences of this connexion. To vindicate that sacred memory against unjust aspersions was, as we know from Napier's own statement, the motive with which he commenced his great historical work, the original design of which was limited to an account of the operations which terminated at Corunna. It was the flattering reception of the first volume which induced the author to expand his scheme into a complete history of the war.

Let us here pause a moment to view the brilliant young officer of the 43rd as he appeared in the prime of his life and the outset of his career, before pain and sickness had begun to undermine his frame and sadden his existence.

'In appearance William Napier was one of the handsomest men of his time. Six feet high, formed in the most powerful mould it is possible to conceive as compatible with extraordinary grace and activity. He was able to jump six feet in height. The head of an Antinous covered with short clustering black curls-the square brow, both wide and high-the aquiline nose-the firm mouth and the square massive jaw, indicating indomitable firmness and resolution the eye of that remarkable blueish grey so terrible in anger, so melting in tenderness, so sparkling in fun. In his youth his head and face might have served for a portrait of the War-god. In his latest years, with milk-white hair and beard, his appearance was that of a Jupiter.' (Vol. i. p. 27.)

Such was his visible image. Now for his demeanour.

Quite wild with animal spirits and strong health, brimming over with fun; joking with his comrades; racing, jumping, swimming with his men; studying Napoleon's campaigns with his friend Lloyd; poring over the lives of real and fictitious heroes, and the writings of ancient and modern philosophers, and astonishing all by his wonderful memory; raging like a lion at any story of oppression; melting in pity over any tale of misfortune; with a fondness for

animals amounting almost to a passion, and delighting to observe individualities of character even in a bird or a kitten; this strong, tender, beautiful, and gifted man, surrounded by so many temptations, passionately admiring beauty in women, and with every attribute of success, was yet never known to have been otherwise than pure in thought and deed by comrades who lived with him in all the intimacy of a barrack life; and this, too, at a time when society was far more indulgent to certain transgressions than it now is.' (Vol. i. p. 28.)

William Napier's first service in the field was in the Copenhagen expedition in 1807. He was present at the siege of that capital, and afterwards marched under Sir Arthur Wellesley to attack the Danish lines; was engaged in the battle of Kioge, and took part in the pursuit of the defeated enemy. He records with indignant disgust the brutal marauding conduct of a German general, under whose command his detachment was temporarily placed, while his own company took 'not so much as a cherry from a bough, and not a man plundered or misbehaved.' His next experience in the field was more severe. Accompanying his regiment to Spain in 1808, he bore his full share in the hardships and sufferings of Sir John Moore's retreat, and paid the penalty by a fever which weakened his constitution and nearly proved fatal to his life. Marching for days together with bare feet, bleeding at every step, and with no clothes but a jacket and a pair of linen trowsers, he declared that he must have perished but for a spare horse lent to him by a brother officer.

In 1809 he became aide-de-camp to his uncle, the Duke of Richmond, then Viceroy of Ireland, but gave up that easy post, as he always gave up ease or emolument for honour, to go with his regiment to Portugal. On the march to Toulouse, he was seized with pleurisy, and was bled four times in two days; but hearing that the position of our forces was critical, he got out of bed, walked forty-eight miles to Oropesa, and there getting post-horses, rode to Talavera to join the army, an exertion which nearly cost him his life. And now came a succession of stern combats in which the blood of the Napiers was freely spilt, and their indomitable spirit manifested. At the fight on the Coa, where Crawfurd with five thousand men and six guns, stood to receive the attack of thirty thousand French, having in his rear a steep ravine and river, with but one narrow bridge for retreat, Captain Napier received on the field the thanks of his commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Macleod, for rallying his company under a heavy fire, and thereby giving time for the passage of the broken troops across the bridge.

VOL. CXXI. NO. CCXLVII.

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William Napier was shot through the left thigh, but the bone was not broken, and he continued with his regiment notwithstanding his wound until the battle of Busaco, in which four of the Napiers were engaged. His brothers Charles and George were both wounded, the former most severely in the face. His cousin Charles, afterwards the well-known Admiral, was shot in the knee. The gallant appearance of William Napier as he rode in front of the enemy on that bloody day was recalled in after years by his veteran comrade General Brotherton, who described him as going down among the enemy en sabreur with his glass to his eye as coolly as if he had been dancing a quadrille.'

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But a day of yet keener trial to this gallant brotherhood was still to come. At Caza Noval, during the retreat of Massena, the 52nd regiment had been rashly pushed forward during a fog into the midst of Ney's corps. The mist suddenly lifting, disclosed the little band encircled by the French columns. William Napier was detached with six companies to support the left of the 52nd, but unable from the nature of the ground to see the men he was sent to support, he suddenly found himself with two companies in the midst of the enemy. Under the deadly fire of an overpowering force, his men hung backtwo or three only followed him, and while returning back to urge them to a fresh advance, he was struck by a shot on the spine, and escaped death by dragging himself, his lower extremities being paralysed, to a heap of stones which afforded partial cover. From this position he was rescued by some of his own company coming up who drove off the enemy. Whilst one brother was thus severely, and as was then supposed, mortally wounded, another (George) had his arm broken by a bullet, while carrying his dying subaltern off the field. A third (Charles) hastening up, with his frightful Busaco wound unhealed, to the front of the army, met the two litters carrying his wounded brothers to the rear. The story is told with striking effect in the Life of Sir Charles Napier : '—

'Combat followed combat, the Light Division led in pursuit, and Charles Napier with his wound still bandaged, rode above ninety miles on one horse, and in one course, to reach the army. His regiment being with the main body, he heard each morning the ever-recurring sound of the Light Division's combats in front, and had hourly to ask of wounded men if his brothers were living? Thus advancing, on the 14th of March he met a litter of branches, borne by soldiers and covered with a blanket. What wounded officer is that? Captain Napier of the 52nd, a broken limb. Another litter followed. Who is that? Captain Napier, 43rd, mortally wounded-it was thought so then. Charles Napier looked at them and passed on to the fight in front.'