Passages from the Life of a Philosopher

them all. It instantly occurred to me that a similar difficulty must present itself to a general commanding a vast army, when about to engage in a conflict with another army of equal or of greater amount. I therefore thought it must have been felt by the Duke of Wellington, and I determined to make a kind of psychological experiment upon him. Carefully abstaining from any military term, I commenced my explanation to Lady Wilton. I soon perceived by his countenance that the Duke was already in imagination again in Spain. I then went on boldly with the explanation of my {180} own mechanical difficulty; and when I had concluded, the Duke turned to Lady Wilton and said, “I know that difficulty well.” 〈THE AUTHOR’S SKETCH OF THE DUKE’S INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER.〉 The success of this experiment induced me in a subsequent publication34 to give an analysis of one portion of the Duke of Wellington’s in­tel­lec­tual character, although I made no mention of his name. Many of his admirers, however, perceived at once the truth of those views, and recognised the justice of their application. I therefore place them before my readers in the following extract from the work referred to:— “It is now felt and admitted, that it is the civil capacity of the great commander which prepares the way for his military triumphs; that his knowledge of human nature enables him to select the fittest agents, and to place them in the situations best adapted to their powers; that his intimate acquaintance with all the accessories which contribute to the health and comfort of his troops, enables him to sustain their moral and physical energy. It has been seen that he must have studied and properly estimated the character of his foes as well as of his allies, and have made himself acquainted with the personal character of the chiefs of both; and still further, that he must have scrutinized the secret motives which regulated their respective governments. 34 “The Exposition of 1852;” 2nd edition, p. 222. “When directly engaged in the operations of contending armies occupying a wide extent of country, he must be able, with rapid glance, to ascertain the force it is possible to con­cen­trate upon each of many points in any given time, and the greater or less chance of fairing in the attempt. He must also be able to foresee, with something more than conjecture, what amount of the enemy’s force can be brought to the same spot in the same and in different times. With these elements {181} he must undertake one of the most difficult of mental tasks, that of classifying and grouping the innumerable combinations to which either party may have recourse for purposes of attack or defence. Out of the multitude of such combinations, which might baffle by their simple enumeration the strongest memory, throwing aside the less important, he must be able to discover, to fix his attention, and to act upon the most favourable. Finally, when the course thus selected having been pursued, and perhaps partially carried out, is found to be entirely deranged by one of those many chances inseparable from such operations, then, in the midst of action, he must be able suddenly to organise a different system of operations, new to all other minds, yet possibly, although unconsciously, anticipated by his own. “The genius that can meet and overcome such difficulties must be in­tel­lec­tual, and would, under different circumstances, have been distinguished in many a different career. “Nor even would it be very surprising that such a commander, estimating justly the extent of his own powers, and conscious of having planned the best combinations of which his mind is capable, should, having issued his orders, calmly lie down on the eve of the approaching conflict, and find in sleep that bodily restoration so indispensable to the full exercise of his faculties in the mighty struggle about to ensue.” Soon after the Queen came to the throne, the two Uni­ver­si­ties pre­sent­ed ad­dresses to her Majesty. I ac­com­panied that of Cambridge. The depu­ta­tion was very numerous, and much unseemly pushing took place. I recollect a very short dumpy fellow pushing much more energetically than any other, for whom I made way, as I retired from the strife in which I was unwillingly involved. He not only pushed, but was {182} continually jumping up like a parched pea in a heated frying-pan: his object being to get a glimpse of her Majesty, and the effect accomplished being to alight on the toes or graze the heels of his colleagues. I retired into a window close to the end of the position occupied by the gentlemen-at-arms. The Duke of Wellington, who had a short time before, as Chancellor of the University of Oxford, presented the address of that body, still remained in the state apartments. He joined me in the recess of the window, and we entered into conversation. 〈THE DUKE ASSISTS A PUSHING M.A.〉 After a time the little dumpy fellow, who had been regularly turned out of the crowd for his pushing, came up to us, and, mistaking the Duke of Wellington for a beef-eater or some palace attendant, complained, almost in tears, that he wanted to see the Queen, and that they had pushed him out, and that he had not been able to see the Queen. The Duke very good-naturedly said he would take him to a place where he could see her Majesty without being pushed about. Accordingly, the Duke led him behind the gentlemen-at-arms to a situation in which the little man’s wish was gratified, and then returned with him to the window, and resumed the conversation. On another occasion the University of Cambridge presented an address to the Queen at Buckingham Palace. The crowd was very great. On descending one of the flights of stairs, a short Master of Arts was unluckily caught by the string of his gown hooking itself upon one of the large door-handles. He was carried off his legs by the advancing rush. To bring back the pendant Master of Arts a single inch was impossible from the pressure onwards. So whilst two or three of his colleagues with difficulty supported him, I took out my pen-knife and cut the imprisoning ribbon. {183} 〈ALL PARCELS REJECTED.〉 When I published the “Ninth Bridgewater Treatise,” I sent my servant to Apsley House with a presentation copy for the Duke of Wellington. The next morning at breakfast my servant informed me that the porter absolutely refused to take it in, although he stated from whom it came. I remarked to my brother-in-law, who was staying with me, that it was a very odd circumstance, and inquired what was to be done. He replied, “When a man refuses to receive a parcel, nothing more can be done.” I then observed, that if any other person than the Duke had done so, I should have taken no further step; but, I added, that I knew his character so well, that I was confident there was really a good and sufficient reason, although I could not conjecture its nature. After breakfast I wrote a short note to the Duke, mentioning the circumstance, taking for granted that it arose entirely from some misconception of his orders. I then requested him not to take the trouble of writing to me to explain it; but added that I would send the volume to Apsley House on the following morning, when, I had no doubt, the mistaken interpretation of his orders would have been rectified. About three o’clock the same day a servant of the Duke’s brought me a note, inquiring if there were any answer to take back. The Duke stated in his note that letters, books, parcels, maps, and even merchandise, were continually sent to him for the purpose of being forwarded to all parts of the world. This, he observed, threw upon his house-steward so great a responsibility, that he had been compelled to give directions that no parcel should be received at Apsley House without a written order with his signature, like that which he now enclosed. As the Duke’s servant was waiting, I gave him the book, which he took back, and I retained the slip of paper for any other similar occasion. {184} 〈THE DUKE DRESSED IN HIS CARRIAGE.〉 The Duke was habitually an economist of time. One day I was going homeward in a cab to dress for a dinner engagement, when I thought I observed him riding down St. James’s Street towards the House of Lords. On reaching the house of the friend with whom I was to dine, I found that the Duke of Wellington was expected at dinner. He arrived punctually. In the course of the evening I took an opportunity of asking him whether I was mistaken in supposing I had seen him a short time before dinner riding down St. James’s Street. I then expressed my surprise at the rapidity of his movements in getting back to Apsley House in time to dress and be punctual to his engagement. He said, “No, I did not do that; I had ordered my carriage to meet me at the House of Lords, and I changed my dress whilst it was bringing me here.” The most interesting conversations generally occurred when only a few of his intimate friends met together. On one of these occasions, at a very small dinner-party, the characters of the French marshals became the subject of conversation. The Duke, being appealed to, pointed out freely their various qualities, and assigned to each his peculiar excellence. 〈CURIOUS QUESTION—THE DUKE’S REPLY.〉 One question, the most highly interesting of all, naturally presented itself to our minds. I was speculating how I could, without impropriety, suggest it, when, to my great relief, one of the party, addressing the Duke, said— “Well, sir, how was it that, with such various great qualities, you licked them all, one after another?” The Duke was evidently taken by surprise. He paused for a moment or two, and then said— “Well, I don’t know exactly how it was; but I think that if any unexpected circumstance occurred in the midst of a {185} battle, which deranged its whole plan, I could perhaps organize another plan more quickly than most of them.” This strongly confirms the view of the Duke of Wellington’s character given in the preceding pages. After examining all the more important combinations which might be made for the conflict, and having selected those which appeared the best, it is quite natural, if any accident deranged the original plan, that he should perceive, more quickly than another commander, one amongst the many plans previously rejected which was immediately applicable to the new and unexpected circumstances.