the Fourth was ever known to shed. I did not know then that my father and he had been fellow-midshipmen many years before. The Duke of Clarence never forgot an old comrade."

He

Dicky wrote down this interesting and illustrative anecdote with a sense of greatness being thrust upon him. He was in the presence of a man who had been in the arms of royalty. instinctively gathered up his feet under the chair, so as to hide the state of his heels, which were really not fit for the companion of kings to see, and listened for more.

"The next time was in the year '36. His Majesty was pleased to send for me, being informed that I was in the neighbourhood of Windsor. I found him on the slopes, and he conversed with me for half an hour, chiefly on questions connected with the state of the army, a subject in which he was supposed to take little interest. Opposed as I was to his Majesty's rigid conservatism, I felt myself obliged to ask permission to state my views at length. This he granted, and dismissed me, after hearing them, with every mark of gracious condescen

sion. I feel bound to say that on this, as on every other occasion, I found William the Fourth most affable, clear-headed, and intelligent; and I bear witness the more readily to this effect, because detractors have sneered at his Majesty's abilities: these were, in reality, of no common order. I had at one time the idea of writing a political history of the reign of William the Fourth, but was deterred by the private nature of much of the information which I should have used.

"History is based upon lies, and it is impossible to get at the truth. That is only known to the diplomatist, who never talks: it dies with him. When I was in Vienna, Metternich confessed to me the whole secret history of the campaign of 1815, which I shall write as soon as I find time. Who would have guessed that Waterloo was a put-up thing?

"Wellington I knew well. He was very fond of entertaining me, during long evening talks, with stories about Napoleon's generals. His opinion of them greatly varied. Marmont, he said, was a devil of a fellow. Massena kept him awake at night. Soult never made him forget to say his

VOL. II.

7

prayers for a week. 'Gad!' he used to say, 'even you would have had your work cut out with Soult.' He thought a great deal more perhaps than I really deserved of my personal courage and military genius. It was generous of him.

"Talleyrand was excessively fond of boiled pork, broad beans, and pease pudding. He told me once, dining at the Austrian Embassy, that he could have wished to be an Englishman, in order to enjoy the oftener what he considered our national food. It is not generally known that he ordered it to be served every day when beans were in season.

"Sir Robert Peel, Lord George Bentinck, Bulwer Lytton, Lord Melbourne, and I, were once taking supper after a late debate. After midnight, we set ourselves to foretelling the future, a thing which the military diplomatist alone can do with certainty. It is now thirty years ago, and I remember, though I do not boast of it, that I foretold exactly the war between Germany and France, being only out a trifle in the year: I placed that too soon. Bentinck, who was really a man of the highest

genius, prophesied that very same evening the escape of the prisoner of Ham and the beginning of the end for Louis Philippe. Could Ezekiel himself have done more?

"When these men died, England had no great men left. The legislators and diplomatists of the present day are pigmies in comparison with the school to which they belonged. The great art of the diplomatist, according to their traditions, was to know the exact moment to invent -to invent with freedom and facility, and to invent with a truthful face. I have often heard poor Lord George declare that an evening with Austrian and French diplomatists was like a short campaign; everything depended upon the accurate gauge of your adversary's truth.-Have you taken that down correctly, Mr. Carew?" "All down, sir-‘gauge of truth.””

"Good-another sheet. 'Recollections of Lord Melbourne.""

Dicky obeyed, and his thoughts wandering -proceeded to write without catching the meaning of the words. The drama in his mind meanwhile was going on. "Spare me, Carew―spare me! You have the secret of my life; you have

in your power the honour of a house; you can Be merciful as you are

blight a noble name.

strong."

This was the masterpiece of Dick's imagination, and a part of the duologue with which he amused his weary occupation. He was writing something quite different, but no doubt it was almost as great nonsense.

"There was a time, old man, when you spurned the humble amanuensis. He came up thirsty; you had champagne in the cupboard, and there was a refreshing tap at the nearest corner, but you offered him neither ale nor wine. His boots were down at heel, and you had not the humane generosity to present him with a new pair; he was hard up, and you knew it, and never raised his pay. Old man, I'll have my

bond!"

A cry was heard, which reached from St. James's Palace to the lonely smoking-room of the club where the disappointed peer sat brooding: 'Long live our youthful Queen!' He sprang to his feet and uttered a cry of gratitude. Is that down? Take these care; among the most precious of my recollections."

are