significance of his death. Tallyrand is said to have been playing cards when word reached the house of his hostess. The lady was silent for a moment before exclaiming, ‘What a momentous event!’ Talleyrand shook his head and responded. ‘No. It is only news.’
The principal victor of Waterloo (in terms of the rewards garnered, if not the absolute responsibility for bringing about Napoleon’s defeat), lived a long and prosperous life. Prize money and the rewards awarded to him by parliament amounted to over three quarters of a million pounds - a staggering fortune by the standards of the day. On his return to England, Arthur insisted on the creation of the Waterloo medal - the first such to be issued to all ranks. Although he was never again called upon to serve in the field he did briefly become commander-in-chief of the army, an honour usually reserved for a member of the royal family. Following the death of Prime Minister Canning in 1828, Arthur reluctantly accepted the premiership and was immediately embroiled in a political crisis. For many years, reformers had been pressing for legislation to relieve Catholics of some of the oppressive restrictions they were forced to live under. Fearing that there might be a civil war unless the restrictions were lifted, Arthur steered the legislation through parliament and even fought a duel with a staunch opponent of Catholic relief. Luckily, both men were sensible enough to shoot wide and settle the affair with some measure of honour.
Embittered by his experience, Arthur opposed more reform, this time to permit more people to vote for their members of parliament, and his government fell. After some years in opposition, he served as foreign secretary before retiring from politics in 1846.
On his return from the war Arthur’s marriage to Kitty steadily soured. He felt no love for her, and was constantly frustrated by her lack of sophistication and common sense. For her part, Kitty lived in hope of restoring just a little of the affection he had once genuinely felt for her in the early days of their courtship, before the outbreak of the French Revolution. She died in 1831, never realising that hope. Arthur’s disappointment with his wife extended to his two sons who were for ever burdened by living in the shadow of their father. Arthur’s relationship with his grandchildren was far happier and he took great pleasure in their company as he grew old and infirm.
Arthur died in 1852 and his body was placed in a tomb in St Paul’s Cathedral after a spectacular funeral procession. Ten thousand soldiers accompanied the coffin, together with Queen Victoria and the leading statesmen of the age. Over a million people turned out to line the route and pay their respects to the man who had provided two decades of the finest service to save his country from a foreign dictator.
For those readers who want to pursue their interest in the Duke of Wellington, there are a large number of histories, as well as an interesting history of his heirs, written by his descendant Jane Wellesley. I would also heartily recommend a visit to Apsley House in London. Number 1, London, as it happens, though such a singular address, does not seem to attract quite as many visitors as you would imagine. It is a fascinating experience to tread the halls and chambers of the Duke’s London home. There you can see some of the treasures awarded him by the grateful Spanish after the battle of Vitoria. Best of all is the huge statue of Napoleon, represented as a classic nude, which stands as a permanent trophy from the wars that shaped the destiny of Europe, and much of the rest of the world besides.
My parting thought is to remember the words of a noted historian I heard when he was replying to a question from an undergraduate. He had been asked what was the main significance of the French Revolution, and the rise of Napoleon. The historian was silent for a moment before he replied, ‘I think it is too early to say.’
He is right. Even now echoes from the world that Napoleon and Wellington fought over and fashioned are still with us, and their names will doubtless resonate with subsequent generations, long after we are gone.
The Fields of Death
SIMON SCARROW
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