quire what relation education bears to the whole in the gross. Various crimes are perpetrated by various classes, under various circumstances. The farm labourer has not the same inducement to commit forgery as a banker's clerk has, and the latter has not the same inducement as the former to arson. An educated man would scorn to be seen picking pockets or engaged in a burglary, while, perhaps, his private life would not bear investigation. We think no one can deny that the state of morals in the present day is far higher than it was a century since; and has education had nothing to do in effecting this change? The conclusion, then, at which we have arrived, after a careful and frequent consideration of the subject, is, that with the eradication of some species of crime education has much to do, and with others outward circumstances exert a more potent influence. We do not forget that some colossi in the literary world were as notorious for their vices as for their displays of genius; while we remember with much gratitude that numbers have been directed into the path of virtue, and have become bright ornaments to society, primarily by having their attention directed to the ennobling pursuit of literature. SIGMA. Distory. IS THE CHARACTER OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON WORTHY OF ADMIRATION? AFFIRMATIVE REPLY. IN offering a brief reply to our opponents in the present debate, we will at once proceed to analyze the various arguments which the several negative writers have adduced in support of their position. First, then, we have "Aristides," to whom we are indebted for two papers illustrative of the faults and blemishes in the character of the Duke of Wellington. In our friend's first paper his chief object appears to have been to prove that "our hero" was destitute of moral greatness. He admits that the Duke possessed a certain amount of what may be termed greatness; but then he adds, that no "order of greatness, however dazzling, or however much in repute with the world, can secure our admiration, unless it be moral greatness a quality with which, as we have seen, the late Duke was but indifferently endowed." Now, we readily admit that unless an individual possess traits in his character beyond what are merely calculated to affect the superficial observer, he cannot command the esteem or admiration of those who form true and approximate estimates of human character in all its phases. We, equally with "Aristides," would despise that man whose capabilities extend no farther than to be able to please and dazzle, while in itself his life can claim no actual merit; but we also hold that our friend has not presented an accurate conclusion when completing his analysis of the Duke's character. It lies beyond our sphere to conceive how it is that Wellington can be proved destitute of moral greatness. We would by no means go to the extent to which many are, doubtless, inclined to carry their arguments on this point, i. e., we do not demand a life wholly void of offence" to be attributed to Wellington by our opponents; but what we wish is that, before any decision be made upon the point, our friends would divest their minds of such prejudices as may exist therein as the result of partial observation and exclusive reflection. It remains for us to show, in this portion of our paper, that the Duke of Wellington really did possess moral greatness; or, to reiterate our former assertion, that he was a strictly moral man. point we previously endeavoured to substantiate, and space admits of but a small digression at present in its favour. We enlarged upon the strict adherence to duty by which "our hero" was characterized, and we still maintain our position on that subject. He was distinguished by unwearied perse verance, steady purpose and magnanimity of This soul-qualities which are absolutely necessary to all who would effect glorious achievements. He was wise in counsel and vigorous in execution-endowed with personal intrepidity in the highest degree-was indefatigable in activity and in constitution; but, above all, he possessed great moral courage, and a fearless determination to carry out all that the stern demands of duty might require. He was not to be deterred from executing plans which were submitted to him merely because difficulties apparently insurmountable stood in his way. No; he proceeded onwards, and, in spite of every attempt to crush his victorious arms, he succeeded in laying the iron rule of despotism and oppression prostrate at his feet. He has shown to the world that glory and renown are obtainable without arrogant assumptions of domineering sovereignty; and through the whole of his victorious course we see that, although "rudeness, falsehood, malignity, and revenge, have belonged in common to many great conquerors, they never were among the characteristics of this one great man." His acts and despatches will remain a study for the young soldier to time immemorial; and when the heroes of the present will have merged into the mythic obscurity of the past, his name will continue to shine with resplendent lustre. We could easily expatiate farther upon this branch of our subject; but the life of Wellington has nothing to gain from panegyric. The exploits of a Cæsar, an Alexander, or a Napoleon, were the offspring of unsanctified ambition, united, indeed, to consummate military genius, calculated to excite and fascinate mankind for a time, but afterwards lapsing into unregretted obscurity. But the actions of Wellington were of a totally different character. He fought not for the sake of conquest, but for the sake of his country, and to rescue Europe from the grasp of a despot. Throughout his whole career he adhered strictly to the rule of public, duty: he was animated by a love for his country, and a desire to uphold the British crown. We trust we have shown, in these somewhat discursive remarks, that Wellington possessed moral greatness; and we now hasten to notice briefly the second paper contributed by our friend "Aristides." He appears at the outset to be somewhat dubious as to the exact meaning intended to be conveyed in our former paper. We will here reiterate our conviction, in order that he may be enabled more fully to understand our assertions. We do not "repudiate the opinions of peace men;" but we do repudiate such notions as those indulged in by many, who because, in some instances, enormities revolting to human nature have been perpetrated by those who held the command of armies, at once include all other individuals engaged in similar courses of life in the same category. We do "stigmatize war on account of its sanguinary cruelties;" but we see no reason why, at the same time, we should stigmatize Wellington, as identified with war itself. Most undoubtedly the "principles of peace" are those we would advocate; but at the same time we lend our aid in defence of the great deliverer whose merits are at present under discussion. We must hasten to notice the remarks of "Aristides" upon the political career of the Duke of Wellington. Do men of liberal principles turn with dissatisfaction therefrom? We fear that our friend judges of the principles of others by his own. We would respectfully insinuate that, were our friend actually endowed with the liberality to which he alludes, he would not turn with dissatisfaction from the political career of the Duke of Wellington. We before stated our conviction that Wellington was by no means a great statesman. He was certainly no orator; but the vigour and striking originality by which he was characterized imparted to his language a power which few orators have surpassed. Not possessing a very widely-extended range of public policy, he nevertheless maintained his superiority over other men in this one particular-he fully empracticalized those ideas to which his mind gave birth, and perfected those faculties with which he was endowed. Farther on "Aristides" attempts to disprove our assertion that Wellington was superior to Napoleon. Upon this point we retain our former conviction, feeling convinced that between the two no comparison can be made productive of other results. True, they both raised themselves from obscurity to the highest renown during the great revolutionary struggle; but we see a vast difference between them when looking impartially at their re spective and entire careers. Napoleon undoubtedly possessed a brighter genius than the English commander; but the superior judgment of the latter, and the untiring energy by which he was characterized, render him, in our estimation, worthy of the palm of honour. Rapidity and energy are the prominent features in the campaigns of the French conqueror; while wisdom, firmness, and caution are evinced in the movements and actions of the English general. The former had at his command the military resources and armed legions of half the continents of Europe, while the latter had only the forces of a nation, who were unwilling to offer their blood against their adversaries. Apparently crushed at the outset, Wellington nevertheless eventually effected the defeat of the armies of his opponent, and baffled all his efforts and manoeuvres. minds, by the love of peace, the first grace of the christian character."* We have only now to notice briefly the paper of "L'Ouvrier," in the March number of the British Controversialist. Our friend opens with what we cannot term otherwise than an erroneous view of the motives which may have prompted the Duke of Wellington to choose the military profession. If "L'Ouvrier" had endeavoured to substantiate the charge he has adduced, we should have been prepared to controvert it; but, as it is, we are compelled to look upon it as a purely gratuitous statement, and as such we pass over it at once. If the Duke be really worthy the admiration of "all Bedlam," what a large proportion of the Queen's lieges in our metropolis should be lodged within the walls of that delightful retreat! We, however, can by no means admit the truth of "L'Ouvrier's" statement. We think his arguments on this point to be clearly disproved by the most cursory glance at the private life of the Duke of Wellington, subsequently to his having attained that " fashionably respectable position in society" which, according to our friend, was his chief inducement to select the military profession. We admit that his position was peculiar to his time; but this fact does not militate against the truth of our assertion that his character is worthy of admiration. In their moral and intellectual features the two were still more strikingly different. Glory was Napoleon's only object, and he spared no quantity of blood in order to secure it; while Wellington acted solely from duty, fighting only when necessity compelled him to assume the defensive. Oppression and despotic tyranny proved the ruin of the former; while the judicious conduct and comparatively mild temperament of the latter induced all Europe to place itself under his guidance. Intellectually there also existed Again; our friend affirms that the "polia vast difference between them. Bonaparte tical character of Wellington is respected certainly was endowed with a vigorous and only by a few medieval personages, who clear conception; but the brightness of his boast of the good old times of 'merrie Enggenius too often led him to mistake the fleet-land.' Upon this point space precludes ing phantom for the lasting reality. Wellington, on the contrary, though less original in his ideas, possessed a far greater power of discriminating between the true and the false. "The genius of the former shared in the force of Homer's imagination, while the mind of the latter exhibited the depths of Bacon's intellect." "Aristides" may still bow in admiration to Napoleon; but we will, in preference, continue to acknowledge the superior merits of the "Iron Duke," "who was a warrior only that he might become a pacificator; he shed the blood of man only to stop the shedding of human blood. He conquered the love of glory, the last infirmity of noble Alison's "History of Europe," vol. xix. farther remark than what has previously been indulged in. We would, equally with "L'Ouvrier," lend a helping hand to all whe are desirous of joining under the banner in scribed—“ Progress ! — Onward !—Excel sior!"- but we would at the same time wield the "gray goose quill" in support truth, be it hidden under whatever garb it may, and however unpleasant its revelation may be to partial and prejudiced minds. of The character of Wellington we still vindicate; we still uphold the claims of the late departed conqueror to our admiration, believing that "Death has no conquest o'er this conqueror, For now he lives in fame, though not in life T. W. * Alison's "History of Europe," vol. xix. NEGATIVE REPLY. "The hero scourges not his age alone; His name to late posterity is known. sions; and it is notorious that the Duke never was a favourite with the people at He slays his thousands with his living breath-large, either of his own country or of the His tens of thousands by his fame in death.' WE cannot too severely deprecate the scope and tendency of the introductory paragraphs in the third affirmative article; they are calculated to discourage inquiry into the acts of public men, if they happen to enjoy a reputation with their countrymen for surpassing talents. We, on the contrary, think it proper to sift that reputation, and determine for ourselves whether or not it is deserved; the opposite practice is indicative of a servile, a disingenuous turn of mind. It is, assuredly, the glory which surrounds Wellington as a general that obscures the deformities of his character, private and political; and it would be nothing short of literary immorality to screen from deserved reprobation acts which, if performed by persons less exalted in station, would have incurred disgrace. Besides establishing an injurious precedent, it lowers the standard of our national morality; and, as regards ourselves, it is cowardly to consent knowingly to the misdirection of the public mind, and to shuffle from our duty to futurity, by allowing flattered portraits to obtain currency instead of genuine limnings. In our first paper we set forth the duties of individuals in estimating the characters of such illustrious men as were likely to influence largely the characters of those who live after them; and we take the liberty of directing J. G. R. to a reperusal of that portion of this debate, nothing doubting but that even he will agree ultimately in thinking that it is not over "fastidious" to require that candidates for our admiration should be morally as well as intellectually great. The test by which it is endeavoured to convince us of the rectitude of the Duke, viz., "the whispers of an approivng conscience"-" the approbation of his sovereign and the major part of the states of Europe"-is fatally defective, inasmuch as a man's conscience is not some incorruptible faculty, but one subject to modification from his principles and pursuits; and the stormy career of his grace was decidedly unfavourable to the development of one nice in its perceptions or scrupulous in its admis countries of the continent. He identified himself too closely with the interests of the aristocracies of Europe for that. It was their battles he fought; he was their supporter and abettor, and by them only is he looked upon with sentiments either of esteem or gratitude; and, if it were not so, his had indeed been a thankless office. J. G. R. has omitted to give a catalogue of the peculiar services rendered by the Duke which have placed the people of this country under such an eternal weight of gratitude. It cannot be his senatorial counsels, since these are by all parties very timidly praised; so that it must be his achievements in the field. Now, beyond all question, this is a very equivocal, nay, dangerous ground, on which to test his claims to our esteem or admiration; for, if it be insisted that his feats in India were such as have never been surpassed, not even by Marlborough, and that in his Peninsular campaigns he vanquished in turn every general sent to oppose him, and subsequently their imperial master too, still the question arises, Was he more than the instrument, and would he have refused to conduct the army in an unjust war? In this both negative and positive evidence is against him. As an instance in point, it would be difficult to vindicate our aggressions on India, as a question of right; and yet no man ever forwarded these more ably than him of whom we are now speaking. His expressed determination should not be forgotten either, that in the event of the Catholics of Ireland still manifesting discontent after the measures for their relief should be passed, he would not hesitate to come down to parliament and crave power to suppress it by forcible means. The memorable 10th of April, 1848, must be fresh in the recollection of our readers. The indirect way in which it is attempted to bring the Duke in as a religious man deserves to be noticed. If the announcement quoted be familiar, we are very certain that his famous declaration that men who believe in the New Testament have no business in the army, will be equally familiar, and serve to counteract any danger of mistaken views being entertained regarding the religious sentiments of his grace. Injudicious friends, it is said, are worse than enemies; and we have another proof of the correctness of the aphorism in the defence which J. G. R. makes in favour of the Dukea defence which detracts from his reputation for sagacity, instead of establishing it. It is in the doctrines of the Catholic Church that the greater danger resides, not in the government of it; the other is an argument which now-a-days is obsolete. The opinion of his grace on the corn laws which is quoted detracts still further, for never was there a repeal granted more sincerely prized by the country, or more beneficial to it, than the repeal of the duties on the importation of corn; but he had not the clearheadedness, the foresight, to see prospectively its operations; and hence his opposition. It is very doubtful whether in his campaigns his duty to his sovereign, not to go higher, was the sole motive which actuated him. We have very certain information that he speculated not a little in the funds the funds for paying the cost of his own wars. Now, any one who has observed the fluctuations of the money market, and inquired into the causes of the rises and falls, cannot but know that the successes and reverses of the army would materially affect its firmness, and Wellington could not choose but mark this too; so that it was an easy matter for him, by report or otherwise, to direct affairs at the seat of war in such a way as to enable him to buy in or to sell out to advantage. It is, perhaps, an ungenerous inference, yet it is quite possible that, but for this cause, his campaigns would have been of shorter duration, and of less expense to the country. As this is a position, however, which from its privacy is not susceptible of positive proof, we merely throw out the idea of this being a cause likely to exercise an unseen influence over his military career. It is very generally believed that as a general he was invulnerable; but partiality has unquestionably done a great deal to gloss over errors in combination and rashness in attack. In perusing the narrative of his life, we are constantly meeting with accounts of engagements hazarded contre les regles; and, although it must be admitted that success frequently attended his efforts, still they are not entitled to a higher name than, at best, "lucky blunders;" but partiality, which can admit of no modification of praise, sets these down as "felicitous aberrations from military rule which it occasionally belongs to high genius to make, and which men of common minds would have unsuccessfully attempted." Even in this light he manifested an indifference-a culpable indifference-for the lives of his soldiery. He has been censured, too, by very high authority for not following up the successes which the chances of war placed within his reach. Napier says of him, "In following up a victory, the English general fell short of the French emperor. The battle of Wellington was the stroke of a battering-ram-down went the wall in ruins; the battle of Napoleon was the swell and dash of a mighty wave, before which the barrier yielded, and the roaring flood went pouring onward, covering all." The Earl of Suffolk says, in reference to the battle of Talavera, "I cannot call that a victory where a retreat immediately follows, and the wounded and the prisoners fall immediately into the hands of the enemy. Even the capture of artillery is not, in all circumstances, to be considered as a signal victory, as it might be convenient to leave them on the field." Earl St. Vincent says, "The battle of Talavera, if a victory has been purchased with the useless expenditure of our best blood, has told to no advantage, and has all the consequences of a defeat." Of the same engagement Lord Grenville beautifully says, Gilded disasters are called splendid victories; and the cypress that droops over the tombs of our gallant defenders, whose lives have been uselessly sacrificed, are to be denominated blooming laurels." Having quoted these authorities-profes sionals and contemporaries-we think it unnecessary to insist formally on a more reasonable estimate being taken of his talents, even in this his peculiar province, believing that that will follow as a consequence. We have only to repeat, then, that, although unsurpassed as a commander of the forces, and although not altogether without merit as a statesman, even yet, when tried by the standard of true greatness, which supposes comprehensiveness of mind and unsullied morals united to an expansive philanthropy, we need not say that he is found wantingthat he is not worthy of our admiration. |