The Sun.
London, England, 1852-11-18 00:00:00

7 ) J
~,_."

ESTIMATE OF THE DUKE'S CHARACTER,

BY CHARLES PHILLIPS.

It cannot but be interesting to the public, we con-
ceive, at this particular moment to peruse the impassioned
eulogium pronounced upon his Grace the Duke of
Wellington by the eloquent and gifted Charles Phillips,
in the course of his masterly biographical work entitled
" Curran and his Contemporaries." The chapter to
which we refer runs as follows :

" It has been asked of me, why, in enumerating the con-
temporaries of Curran, the ornaments of our common country,
I have omitted immeasurably the greatest of them all—
Arthur Duke of Wellington. An Irishman by birth—an
associate of Curran in the Irish House of Commons in 1793
a high official afterwards in that country—lreland justly
claims him as her own, and, not unreasonably, complains of
the omission. Though the complaint is just, the omission
was intentional. Inclination, duty, love of my native land,
all imperatively prescribed a task which, nevertheless, con-
scious incompetency admonished me to decline. Deeply did
I feel it was not yet time to fix the flashing of the diamond,
or gaze, with eye undimmed, on more than half a century of
glory. The light of the orb, even in the chastened softness of
its setting, was still too grand and too intense for contempla-
tion. True indeed it is, that, with a patriot, and therefore
perhaps an excusable ambition, I had ventured to delineate
the wits, the orators, and statesmen of my country. But
then it was because, in the contrasts and varieties of their
career, I thought myself furnished with the tintings which
might guide me. However, when, in the lustre of a life like
Wellington's there was nought discoverable either of cloud, or
spot, or shadow,—where could the dazzled eye find rest ?
or, if relief was found, where was the pencil of light' to
picture kindred brightness ? It may not be ; we cannot
dwell upon a disc so lustrous. It is only given us to trace
the lucid path where it has passed, and guess what must have
been the glory of its presence.
" The eloquent lamented voice is scarcely hushed which
mourned Ireland as the difficulty' of his Government—a
melancholy case, in any mind, from a British statesman, a
humiliating admission ! Why should this be so I—and so in
the seventh century of England's sway It is, indeed, to
every thinking man's astonishment, a difficulty ;' and it is
more than a difficulty—it is a reproach—or, may be a peril.
How easy it is to fold the arms, and cast the blame on Ire-
land Nothing more easy than for the libellers, alike of man
and Providence, insanely to insist that there is something in
adhnulerdl dull,
taaorttueirnsemhaseonr
idniospgt
ignaebcdtosi at
sodni
ve
;ni ndaconoendi
ibas
sl eot,foot
eeinnldahenie.dre
which
nlhtt
uie
h.l
ee cgvtaa
gave
vain
andt(b u (but one
which,of
nh e
Burkeempire
even
nny bintounhistoieus a
r)
own
thwudaatyw, agsiveelsoqtouetnhte
slander an illustrious and living refutation. It is impossible
to over-estimate the profound genius evinced in every part of
this operation. The skill with which be lured Messena, rely-
ing on an overwhelming majority of force, to a discomfiture
which led to his recal—alternately tempting him by an
affected defiance, and then by an equally well-acted fear—till
the spoiled child of victory,' baffled and out-manceuvred,
found himself at last in helpless perplexity—aehainaonfdimpreg-
impreg-
nable fortresses in his front, and famine, disaster,
desola-
tion in his rear—fully justified the magnificent apostrophe of
a kindered spirit at the great Dover demonstration—' mighty
Captain,' who never advanced except to cover his arms with
glory. Mightier Captain ! who never retreated, except to
eclipse the glory of his advance. Yes, had libelled Ireland
been all, or more than all, her libellers assert, she has given
a compensation to the nation which he saved, and still adorns,
and still protects, by his wisdom, his valour, and self-devo-
tion, in Arthur Duke of Wellington. Grateful
tefaunldEndgelsaonladte asfeels
it, and his poor country, prostrate,
MinstrelsotfiltlheNorth—
' half
ofiotrg—ets her misery, as she hears the generous
Hark, from yen stately ranks what laughter rings,
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsyh.
His jests, while each blithe comrade round
flings,
And moves to death with military glee.
IBoast,
kindness warm,
boast
Rough nature's children, humorous as she :
And Ha—yon chieftain—strike the proudest tone
fierc e tameless,in danger
Of thy bold harp, green isle—the hero is thine own !nt
"This truly great man encountered in his commencement
the destined fate of future greatness. Detraction, as usual,
muttered its presage of ill omen—the presage of a moment.
It was but heard and hushed. Soon, loftily, above it rang
the trumpet of Assaye. Europe caught up the tone—it woke
the frozen echoes of the North—called Spain and Portugal
again to life—startled the falcon mid the silence of the
. Pyrenees—bade prostrate France arise—and, at last, from
Waterloo resounded through the world. The path to fame's
fair temple ' lay, indeed, before him ; but it was steep, and

it was rugged. Danger, privations, jealousy, vicissitudes,
and difficulties of every kind, beset, but sought in vain to
baffle him. In fact, they only proved the vastness and the
universality of his genius. That course which, in another,
would have indicated defect, was in him the result of science
and design. His retreat always precluded a triumph—his
pause was merely a preparative to progress ; and when, at
last, amid the doubts, and to the dismay of those who could
not comprehend him, he rested amid that marvel of
his strategy, the lines of Torres Vedras, it was
to give breathless victory a brief repose ; it was that Fabius
might complete the wreath, to which every hero had
previously contributed. If, however his career was at times
exposed and perilous, so, on the other hand, it was not with-
out its felicities. Amongst the latter may be counted both
the foe he had to combat, and the theatre of the contest.
Amid the mingled scenes of Moorish romance and Andalusian
chivalry, every rock woke some noble recollection—' visions
of glory tried the aching sight.' The mighty spirit of the Cid
himself seemed to arise, in recognition of a kindred heroism.
Nor were the hostile ranks unworthy their antagonist. No
barbaric horde, an easy prey to discipline—no conscript levy,
to whom war was novel; but iron legions, inured to danger,
familiar with victory, and ignorant of fear. And the chiefs
who led them—honour to their memories I—honour to the
brave, although they were our enemies !—well were such
leaders worthy of such followers. No ancestral shields or
herald's artifice made pedigree supply the place of merit.
Nature's own nobility—their cradle was the ranks, their
achievements their only title-deeds to distinction ; heroes,
indeed, who, with their bright swords, carved their armorial
bearings ; veterans of the bivouac, the battle, and the siege—
now bronzed beneath the sun of Egypt, now nerved amid the
Alpine snows—their names familiar as the fields on which
they fought, and their exotic garlands culled from the varieties
of the climes in which they conquered. No wonder that their
Eagle had soared from Rome to Moscow—over every capital
in Europe. No great marvel that prostrate dynasties indi-
cated its course ; and rising kingdoms marked its resting
place But, before Wellington, the standard and its bearer
drooped together. The Invincibles' were vanquished. One
by one, marshal after marshal, fled the field ; until at last,
his crown shivered, his throne in fragments, and his mighty
empire a tradition, their glorious master—even the great Na-
poleon—saw his conqueror.
" Nor was it always an individual leader against whom he
had to combat. There were occasions on which he stood,
and stood alone, against the concentrated energies of ',ranee.
In one single month, and in one single province, that of
Estramadura, six of their ablest generals, Soult, Ney, Mor-
tier, }lineman, Victor, and Sebastiani, were in the field
against him. At another period, though separated, there
were in force in the Peninsular, Mortier at Leon, Soult at
lamora, Sillerman at Valladolid, Suchit at Taragona, and
St. Cyr at the blockade of Gerona. In numerical force, too,
the disparity was fearful. Napoleon bad at one time avail-
able in Spain, very nearly two hundred thousand troops. In
the terrific fight of Talavera—where each army lost a fourth
part of its complement—we were by two to one out-num-
bered. At Fuentes d'Onore, there were two to one of Infan-
try, and five to one of Cavalry, opposed to us. Fearful dis-
parity ! But difficulties seemed no longer difficulties—obsta-
cles appeared, as, if merely for the purpose of being
surmounted. All paled before the star of Welling-
ton. From the first rifle-shot at the village of Obidos,
to the last gun which boomed at Toulouse, over an empire's
grave—from the day on which he resigned his desk, in Dub-
lin, to that in which (having received twelve times the thanks
of Parliament) he took his seat among the Peers of England,
Baron, Viscount, Earl, Marquis, Duke, (Honour's fountain
being quite exhausted) in right of all, at once, " his path was
a plane of continual elevations."
" To what, then,are we to attribute prosperityso unparalleled ?
—to merit or to fortune ? Merit, strange to say, this seem-
ingly self-answering question has been asked ! But, let the
darkest bigot to the creed of chance open his marvellous dis-
patches, and be satisfied. He may there read the solution o?
his mystery. He will there find, it was not on the battle-
field alone this great commander gained his victories. It was
over the reap, and in the tent, at midnight. It was in the
careful retrospect of past campaigns, studious of experience.
It was in the profound reflection looking before and after'
—in a sagacity almost instinctive—in a prescience all but in-
spired—in the vigilance that never slumbered—the science
that never erred—the cautious, well digested, deeply-pondered
purpose, slow in formation, but once formed inflexible. These
were the chances whichenslaved renown. These were the acci-
dents which fettered fortune. All-extraordinary as these dis-
patches are, perhaps the most curious feature they present isthe
immediate and immutable maturity of character. Instant, yet
permanent—of a moment's growth, yet made of adamant.
Time has not touched it. What he was at Seringapatam,
such was he at Waterloo ; and what he was at Waterloo, he
is at this very Moment. Like the weighty and mysterious

element which guards ottr 4
isiand, his great name seems to
Principle of its preservation. The
exhibits him precisely 1,
as —e appears through twelve volumes,
down to the last at Paris!
firstpss possess
thesewithi within
dispatches,itself t he
dated
It would truly seem to have been
predestined by an all-gmeio_ 1800 from the camp at Currah,
g forth at once, mature in wisdom,
and panoplied for war.
~ And yet Wellington, having
disposed of armies, had to
Providence, that, at our na-
etinoenn'usnnteeerde,rihteiesihsmou.ld
Home-bred
spring
bred Hannibals and civic Scipios
now denounced his inactiv4Y, now deprecated his rashness.
Even London strain-bands,
redolent of Finchley, shot their
goose-quill arrows at the warrior's reputation. With a pen
eagle, Wellington rebuked them
furnished by the shattered
with a scornful word—asingle word—that word was Victory.
How it chafes the blood to think of dolts like these avenging
'—
their surfeits on a national benefactor, who fasted for them while
sed
and fought for them, confederating against
him, who, while they toy
upon their couch of down, was
watch, Waiting the thunder-clap which was
But, both obeyed their mission. The
twice—,the other intent on immortality.
theyDifficult,totoionnmewhe,sis wskai
nsmeea rvitewdebeeneedtt ,
indeed,
bgnne
feasting,
to contemplate, the discourage-
ments through which he struggled to his renown. From the
hour of his disembarkation
drlinahtg ldisheartening
wiscredit, as it must at all
at this day to
at Mondego Bay, to that on which
from the summit of the Pyrenees he looked on the lovely
land he had emancipated, ' a sword (to use his own expres-
sion) hung over his head.,
While faction at home lay crouch-
ing for its victim, a foreign confederacy
was at work to fur-
nish it. 7.111 e impediments he had to combat meet us in every
page--sometimes, as just
'natter of complaint—oftener, as the
necessary record of occurrences. It is not too much to say
kingdom. Here he hadthe heart of any other man in the
grandee,
they
—t
there,
tbor broken nn t
eract the perverseness of a junta—
leaguedobfracolsetio_aptrotphietiamteerethye
of jealousygoverm eonftsa,
but untractable—untaught by de-
featlrinow thwkrted by the ingratitude of Portugal,
PLude—now neutralized by the imbe-
edsecre I
deniloogiwtgyaendodf harassedw iisnptahtihna allies,
intolerantib y
their mutual animosities—sometimes
neglected,slam-
always
him—still mindful of the crisis he
saw gathering round his country— unaided, self-sustained, and
self-relying, he never sheathed the sword till, amid Europe's
homage, he gave Europe peace.
mightydered, often
trust
reposed
ii i
"With one voice, Europe responded, and titles, and honours,
and rewards, were showered on her benefactor. But it may
well be doubted whether his most precious reward was not in
his own self-consciousnesk

" No mere illusion ever led the Duke astray; his course was
eminently practical and VI the purpose. Our Ocean Welling-
ton's noble signal at Trafalgar—' England expects every man
to do his duty'—was the load-star of his life. No doubt he
must have been either ktore or less than man, not to have
enjoyed his fame, but it Vas ever with him merely a second-
ary consideration. Duty guided, governed, monopolized him;
glory was content to follow,
• " Almost every man iniagines that he knows the Duke of
Wellington, because of those exploits which have become as
household words amongst us. But no man can be said to
know him truly who has not pored and pondered over
these Dispatches. Lucid, eloquent, copious, and con-
densed, they take their %tand beside the immortal Com-
mentaries. They must el'er remain, at once, the army's
manual, and, of their gifted author, the most enduring
monument. The record of his glory, they are also the revela-
tion of the qualities which insured it. Wonder almost ceases
at his incomparable achievements, while the source of their
attainment is disclosed to hs. It lay in his foresight, his
secresy, his self-possession, his discipline, his industry, his
endurance, and in the mighty all-pervading intellect, for
whose grasp nothing was too great, and for whose investiga-
tion nothing was too minute. Here are unfolded to us the
several
n rali athnediraseesmocbiainatedtiatani,ewurie, rare in themselves, but still
rarer h constitutes the hero. Bold,
yet prudent—gifted, laborious—ardent, but circumspect—
leaving nothing to chance which calculation could supply—
he was prepared for adverse or prosperous vicissitude, and
made of his reverses, as of his victories, so many avenues to
renown. Such are the disclosures of these invaluable vo-
lumes. But the mine of intellect is not their only or most
estimable treasure. It has been a fashion to regard the Duke
as the transcendent soldier, but as the soldier only: cold, re-
solute, reserved, inflexible—the Iron Duke'—as if Nature
had forgotten the heart in her formation of the hero.
Not so, however, will after ages read his history. Let war's
admirers accompany the conqueror—be it ours to contemplate
the man. Pause, reader, with me—and see him busy in the
work of mercy, solacing the captive, succouring the wounded,
beseeching of his adversaries—as it were a boon—that they
will imitate the humanity he exemplifies. Come, reader, with
me—the battle won—and behold the mourner heedless of his
glory : he is thinking of his fireside far away ; he is giving

his tears to the poor childless father. Or, see him, a world's
deliverer, in his tent, at Waterloo ; hear how he sighs over his
deathless record ; behold, as one by one, his old companions
are reported fallen, how the ill-feigned fortitude gives way at
last, and he exclaims in agony—' Oh, next to the regret of
losing such a battle, is the grief at having gained it.' Be-
hold our Wellington, for once as victor ! Nature, omnipo-
tent overcomes the conqueror. Rich, unquestionably, as these
dispatches are in memorable attributes of every kind, there
is one quality more evident throughout, than the ever active
humanity of their author.
" I hear a whisper—Do you mean, then, to pourtray per-
fection ? No, for perfection is not given to man. But I
mean to state, and state advisedly, that, regarding
the foe he had to combat, the difficulties he
had to contend with, and the means at his dispo-
sal, Wellington, as a General, never had an equal.
No ; neither in modern times, nor in remote antiquity. Ido
mean to express my full conviction that, could the heroes of
the past appear once more amongst us, answering their sum-
mons from the roll-call of fame, they would, as the world's
warriors of our day have done, recognize him as their head,
and serve beneath his banner. Yes, we have beheld him, and
with the concurrence of its choicest spirits, the chosen of the
earth. Marshals, and Kings, and Emperors have followed
him, the elected leader of their veteran hosts, and never fol-
lowed him except to victory—victories, be it remembered,
over which humanity need not mourn, nor honour blush, for
they were unborn of ambition and unsullied by rapacity.
Through war's dire atmosphere they shine aloof, in constel-
lated grandeur, all radiant with its glory, but divested of its
guilt, through their redeeming motive—a world's emancipa-
tion. In Wellington's behalf, therefore, we betray no arro-
gance. We but vindicate the claim which Europe has ac-
corded, and which has been more than justified by results.
We only anticipate what history will record, and what she
already has commenced recording. We but feebly follow the
example of our day, which, with impatient gratitude, has
forestalled posterity, and unveiled to him, before death, his
dawning immortality. Almost canonized in life, he breathes
amid his relics. He walks abroad, impeded by his mg nu-
ments. Our streets and squares, and bridges, as he passes,
speak to him of the name which England's children's chil-
dren will learn by heart. Columns and statues and triumphal
arches awake the past and typify the future. Through her
Alisons and Napiers, the anointed of the shrine, the awful
oracle itself has spoken. Wellington has heard the deathless
words, HEREAFTER itEl to hear, and which unborn ages
will accept and venerate."

ALISON'S OPINION.
A comparison of Napoleon and Wellington, taken
from the conclusion of "The History of Nurepe," by
Sir Archibald Alison :
" Napoleon and Wellington were not merely individual
characters : they were the types of the powers which they
respectively headed in the contest. Napoleon had brighter
genius, Wellington superior judgment ; the former nom-
bated with greater energy, the latter with more perse-
verance. Rapid in design, instant in execution, the strokes
of the French hero fell like the burning thunderbolt ;
cautious in council, yet firm in action, the resources ofi the
British champion multiplied, like the vigour of vegetation,
after the withering stroke had fallen. No campaign of
Wellington's equals in energy and activity thos of
Napoleon in Italy and in France : none of Napoleon's
approaches in foresight and wisdom that of Welling-.
ton in Torres Vedras. The vehemence of the French
Emperor would have exhausted, in a single season, the
whole resources, which, during the war, were at the
disposal of the English General ; the caution of Wellington
would have alienated in the very beginning the troops
which overflowed with the passions of the revolution.
Ardour and onset were alike imposed on the former by his
situation, and suggested by his disposition, foresight, and
perseverance, were equally dictated to the latter by his
necessities, and in unison with his character. The one
wielded at pleasure the military resources of the half of
Europe, and governed a nation heedless of consequences,
covetous of glory, reckless of slaughter : the other led the
forces of a people distrustful of its prowess, avaricious of
its blood, niggardly in the outset in its expenditure,
but,
when once roused, invincible in its determination. And
the result, both in the general war and final struggle, was
in entire" conformity with this distinction. Wellington
retired in the outset before the fierce assault of the
French legions; but he saw them, for the first
time since the revolution permanently recoil in
defeat from the rocks of Torres Vedras. He was at rst
repeatedly expelled from Spain, but at last he drove he
invaders with disgrace across the Pyrenees. He was,
in
the beginning, assailed unawares, and wellnigh aster-
powered in Flanders ; but, in the end, he baffled all Napo-
leon's efforts, and, rising up with the strength of a giant,

crushed at once his army and his empire on the field of
Waterloo.
" The personal and moral characters of the two chiefs
were still more strikingly opposed, and emblematic of the
sides they severally led. Both were distinguished by the
unwearied perseverance, the steady purpose, the -magnani-
mous soul, which are essential to glorious achievements ;
both were prudent in councils, and vigorous in execution ;
both possessed personal intrepidity in the highest degree ;
both were indefatigable in activity, and iron in constitu-
tion ; both enjoyed the rarer qualities of moral courage
and fearless determination,—but in other respects, their
minds were as opposite as are the poles asun-
der. Napoleon was covetous of glory, Wellington
was impressed with duty : Napoleon was reckless of
slaughter, Wellington was sparing of blood : Napoleon was
careless of his word, Wellington was inviolate in faith.
Treaties were regarded by the former as binding only when
expedient—alliances valid only when useful : obligations
were regarded by the latter as obligatory, though ruinous
—conventions as sacred, even when disgraceful. Napoleon's
wasting warfare converted allies into enemies; Wellington's
protecting discipline changed enemies into friends. The
former fell because all Europe rose up against his oppres-
sion : the latter triumphed, because his principles were
such that all Europe was at last glad to place itself under
his guidance. There is not a proclamation of Napoleon to
his soldiers, in which glory is not mentioned, nor one in
which duty is attended to : there is not an order of Wel-
lington to his troops in which duty is not inculcated, nor
one in which glory is mentioned.
" The intellectual characters of the two heroes exhibited
the same distinctive features as to their military career and
moral qualities. No man ever surpassed Napoleon in the clear-
ness of his ideas, or the stretch of his glance into the depths
of futurity ; but he was often misled by the fervour of his
conceptions, and mistook the dazzling brilliancy of genius
for the steady light of truth. With less ardour of imagi-
nation, less originality of thought, less creative power,
Wellington had more justness of judgment, and a far
greater capability of discriminating error from truth. The
young and the ardent, who have life before them, will
ever turn to the St. Helena memoirs for the views of a
mind of the most profound and original cast on the most
important subjects of human thought. The mature and
experienced who have known its vicissitudes, will rest with
more confidence on the ' Maxims and Opinions' of Wel-
lington, and marvel at the numerous instances in which
his instinctive sagacity and prophetic judgment had, in
opposition to all around him, beheld the shadow of coming
events, even amidst the clouds with which he was sur-
rounded. No one can read the speculations of the French
Emperor without admiration at the brilliancy of his
ideas, and the • originality of his cencePte'neenAi
none can peruse the maxims of the English
wisdom and justice of his opinion. Th g.
without closing the book at every page to medientiautesgoonf
the
former shared in the fire of Horner'sf
mind of the latter exhibited the depth o
Bi tez
sa
intellect.on the
" But it was in the prevailing oral principles by which
they were regulated, that the
minds was most striking
and the -British hero, a sense of
diisnitnlinnocrtati%c•haracsintegrleonfesstheeirf
heart was the characteristic of
pervaded the French
duty his ruling principle ;
werepuirdocefiendalledyonwethrke
conqueror, and perhaps to himself, under
a thirst for gloryarawas his invariable incentive ;
but he veiled it to otlruT.
the
belief,na
the maxim that the end would
ratify the means. Napoleon placed himself
in every case kis desolated it for fifteen
return. for Waterloo, placed
name
eaetf tphaetrimeetaienss,Pif tjustnifiaebflor,
years,
with his warfare ;
Hof
t Eh eu
rl
oaEplro,apnoend,
aotutthteheheesdnd
Wellington at the head of its armies, and he gave it thirty
years of unbroken peace. The former thought only in
peace of accumulating the resources of future war: the latter
sought only in war the means of securing future peace, and
finally sheathing the sword of conquest. The one exhibited
the most shining example of splendid talents devoted to
temporal ambition and national aggrandizement ; 'the
other, the noblest instance of moral influence directed to
exalted purposes and national preservation. The foriner
was in the end led to ruin, while blindly pursuinc, the
meteor of worldly greatness; the latter was un- ambitiLsly
conducted to final greatness while only following the star
of public duty. *

Wellington was a warrior, but he was so only to become a
pacificator ; he has shed the blood of man, but it was only
to stop the shedding of human blood ; he has borne aloft
the sword of conquest, but it was only to plant in its
stead the emblems of mercy. He has conquered the love
of glory, the last infirmity of noble minds, by the love of
peace, the first grace of the Christian character."