The Life of Arthur, Duke of Wellington (Classic Reprint)

The vital thing to remember about Gleig, the biographer of Wellington, is that he was also the author of The Subaltern, which is decidedly one of the very best of the Wellington novels. That story, whose second edition was dedicated (by a characteristic half-granted permission) to the duke, opens in May 1813, and it brings us, later in that year, to a direct impression of Wellington. The great duke is there sketched from the life and without any fictive colours by the subaltern, who was G. R. Gleig himself. The background is Spain, the hill foreground the top of the Quatracone, which the battalion has just reached, when four mounted officers appear, one of them riding a little ahead of the rest. He who rode in front, says the autobiographical novelist and chronicler, was a thin, well-made man, apparently of the middle stature, and not yet past the prime of life. His dress was a plain grey frock, buttoned close to the chin; a cocked hat, covered with oilskin; grey pantaloons, with boots buckled at the side; and a steel-mounted light sabre. Though I knew not who he was, there was a brightness in his eye which bespoke him something more than an aide-decamp or a general of brigade; nor was I long left in doubt. There were in the ranks many veterans who had served in the Peninsula during some of the earlier campaigns; these instantly recognised their old leader, and the cry of Duro, Duro! the familiar title given by the soldiers to the Duke of Wellington, was raised. This was followed by reiterated shouts, to which he replied by taking off his hat and boving, when, after commending the appearance of the corps, and chatting for a moment with the commanding officer, he advised that a halt should take place where we were, and rode on.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)

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