GLEIG'S LIFE OF WELLINGTON.*
THE Life of Arthur, first Duke of Wellington, has yet to be written. It has been the cherished ambition of Mr. Gleig to write that life ; a laudable ambition, for the subject is a noble one. But the very breadth and depth of the theme requires a biographer of adequate mental bulk and stature—one who can comprehend and appreciate the personal character of Wellington, and at the same time hold in his hand the keys to the history of, Europe for more than half a century—one who can define with succinctness and precision the part which Wellington played in that history, and describe the moving events of the most agitated and tumultuous periodmince thp Tbirty, Years' War, with power, order, and vivacity. The face of Europe was totally changed during the life of the great Englishman. Old states and systems went down and perished, and new ones arose between the unnoticed hour of his birth and the world-wide chronicled hour of his death. A biography of Wellington should fix his place distinctly and broadly amid the convulsions which shook the world in the lapse of years from 1769 to 1852. There should be something in the style, and something in the thoughts approximating to the magnitude of the changes.which have been wrought, to the splendour of the means employed, to the terror inspired; the agony endured by all the nations of Europe. It was in this element that the Duke of Wellington worked, and a biography worthy of him should show his single-minded devo- tion to duty running like a broad path of sunshine through the fire and gloom and tempest of a world racked in the throes forced upon it by boundless ambition on one side, and the right divine to govern * The Life of Arthur, First Duke of Wellington. Partly from the French of Si Brialmont, partly from Original Documents. By the Rev. G. R. Gleig, Chaplain- General to the Forces, and Prebendary of St. Paul's. Longman and Co. wrong on the other. Perhaps the time has not yet come to do this; perhaps we are too near the great drama in which he performed his part, to appreciate its proportions and its meaning. At all events, even if the hour has come, the man—the biographer—has not ,yet arisen among us equal to the mighty theme. Mr. Gleig has tned his by no means 'prentiee band upon it, and with every will to do it justice, certainly he has failed. There are many respectable jog:trot lives of Wellington, and Mr. Gleig's will rank among them, neither more or less. With larger means at his disposal than those pos- sessed by any of his predecessors he has not raised his work above their level. It is essentially a dull, prosy, common-place compila- tion, not a work of art. It has neither unity of design nor vigour of execution. The author has not grasped the essence of the period through which he has waded with so much contentment to himself, with much weariness to us, nor has he fixed the place of Wellington in that period as he should have placed it. The book might fitly be called Some Account of the character of the Duke of Wellington, and of the transactions in which he was engaged. For this failure to do jus- tice to so vast and intricate a subject, Mr. Gleig is not to be blamed. Mr. Gleig may exclaim with Hubert, the archer, "A man can but do his best." We really believe Mr. Gleig has done his best, because his affection for the Great Duke, and his veneration of his character are so manifest. The book is a tribute of affection to the memory of Wellington, and as such may he respected. But Mr. Gleig would write a life of his heroic friend, and he must take the consequences of mistaking desire for power, aspiration for faculty. Perhaps these strictures may grate harshly on the ears of those who admire Mr. Gleig, and venerate his hero. But we must plead in justification the very feelings they entertain. It is admiration for Wellington which makes us regard the monument erected by his friend as inadequate to his memory. We do so the more earnestly. because Mr. Gleig has declared that his object has been "so to describe the career, and paint the character of the great Duke of Wellington, as to leave little which shall be noteworthy, and nothing which may be important, to be supplied by future biographers." We repeat, in this object Mr. Gleig has failed. There are so many gaps in the story, that much which would be noteworthy and specially precious in the exist- ing state of Europe, when we are once more face to face with armed French ambition, must exist in the archives of Apsley House, in the cabinets of statesmen, perhaps in the records of the Foreign Office. Let us cite only a few capital instances—the Treaty of Adrianople, the French Revolution of 1830, the French Revolution of 1848, the revival of the French Empire. Hardly a word, and not one word of any moment, appears in this biography, upon these cardinal events. Yet the Duke was Minister when the soldiers of Nicholas were in Adrianople, when Charles X. gave place to Louis Philippe; and he was in so high and independent a position in 1848 and 1851, so watchful and so anxious, that he must have spoken and must have written upon these revolutions. It is undoubtedly of great interest to Englishmen to know how the Duke bore himself, what he thought and did, when the Roman Catholic Relief Bill was carried, during the turmoil of the Reform Bill agitation, when Sir Robert Peel abolished the Corn Laws. But these are past and settled questions, whereas foreign policy is perennial, and whether we agree or disagree with the views of Wellington, every deliberate opinion he has expressed must have great weight with all thoughtful men. There is still an Eastern question—perhaps even now about to blaze forth again. There is still a French question, which has filled the Continent and even England with armed men. Wellington's reflections on the advent of a third Napoleon should certainly have found a place in a work pre- tending to be so complete a biography, as to leave little that is noteworthy, and nothing that is important to future biographers. It is not, however, so much these omissions of which we complain, as the general short-coming of the work in tone, style, and even arrange- ment, in all which respects it is the acme of common-place. Had Mr. Gleig confined himself to collecting, telling, and arranging Anecdotes Illustrative of the Character of the Duke of Wellington, he would have produced a useful and agreeable book. When he went beyond that, and yielded to his ambition, he waded, certainly without knowing it, beyond his depth. We do not say that the book will dot be useful, so far as it goes, but we do say that it will not be so useful as it would have been, had Mr. Gleig confined himself within the limits we have described. We do say that it is not in any high literary sense a good.biography of the Duke of Wellington ; that it has not the grandeur and simplicity, the light and the force, the order and the beauty, moving the soul, elevating the intellect, and biasing thd whole moral man which should characterize the story of sixty years in which Wellington was one of the most prominent actors, and of which, for Englishmen at least, he was the hero.
We may here be permitted to regret that Mr. Gleig did not con- tent himself with translating M. Brialmont's Life of the Dllke of Wellington. Not without faults, not without errors, of greater or lesser moment, that was still a vigorous and able work ; and more- over, it was the work of a foreigner, written in the French tongue, and precious because it was a foreigner's estimate of the character and services of Wellington. In the first English edition of the present book M. Brialmont's narrative of the career of Wellington to 1816 was pretty faithfully followed. But at 1816 Mr. Gleig stopped short, and instead of giving us the foreigner's narrative of the remainder of the Duke's life, errors and all, Mr. Gleig substituted a narrative of his own. We fear we lose by the exchange, and certainly we lose the essential thing—Vv'eUington from a Belgian point of view. In the present edition Mr. Gleig's name appears alone upon the title page. He has condensed M. Brialmont's
instructive and animated narrative of the campaigns ; he has sup- pressed some parts of his own continuation, and augmented others. The result is that we have more of Mr. Gleig and less of M. Brial- piont, and we are losers by the change. Even in the condensation of the military narrative, if we have the errors of M. Brialmont omitted in some places, we have them in others replaced by the errors of Mr. Gleig. He has himself written the "Story of Waterloo," and it is, therefore, the more inexcusable in him to err, and err pro- foundly, on that subject. Yet the condensed account of the battle of Waterloo is one of the most inaccurate pieces of writing we ever encountered. We feel bound to make good our words. Mr. Gleig begins by speaking of " the Chilean of Belle Alliance." He goes on to tell us that the attack on Hougonmont was followed by "an attempt to break through the English centre, in which infantry and cavalry both took part ; " that it failed, was renewed ; that La Haye Sainte was taken and the Chiteau of Hougoumont set on fire, all before one o'clock. What are the facts ? The attack on Hougou- mont was followed, but after one o'clock, by an attack on the English left, with infantry alone ; La Haye Sainte was not taken ; Hougou- mont was not set on fire until long after one. Having read this we are not surprised to find a little further on the astounding blunder of mingling the repeated attacks of cavalry alone with the attack made by the imperial Guard. The two movements were painfully distinct. The cavalry were thrown away between four and six, and the Imperial Guard did not advance until long after seven. Again, when the reader is told, "the English alone lost 11,678" how could he imagine that this total includes the loss of the German Legionaries and Hanoverian—who were certainly not "English?' It is very easy to err in writing an account of a battle, but these are errors width are inexcusable, and especially so in a life of Wellington. For one document supplied to Mr. Gleig, and printed in this edi- tion only, the reader will be thankful. It is an account, from the pen of Lord St. Leonards, of the famous scene in Lincoln's Inn, in 1832, when the Duke, having been beset by the mob on his return from the City, was followed even into Stone-buildings. Here it is :
" ' On the 18th of June our Equity Courts were not sitting. I was, therefore, in chambers ; and as I sat working near the window on the
ground-floor, I was startled by three horsemen passing towards Stone- buildings, with a mob at their heels, shouting, hooting, and hissing. I sent my clerk to see what was the matter, and upon his return, finding that the Duke of Wellington was the object of displeasure, I sent the clerk, with some others, round to the men's chambers, to beg them to come at once to protect the Duke. I found that the Duke, with Lord Granville Somerset and Lord Eliot (the present Earl of St. Germans), had been to the Tower on official business, and were then at the chambers in Stone- buildings of Mr. Maule, the Secretary to the Treasury, with whom the Duke had an appointment. In making my way to Mr. Mettle's, I found a considerable mob in Stone-buildings and its approaches, and their con- duct was most violent. When I joined the Duke, we considered what was the best mode of protecting him and his companions. He would not listen to any mode of retreat by which he might avoid the mob. I assured him that the Lincoln's Inn men would effectually prevent any violence, and he determined to get on horseback again, and to ride through the streets. I then went down stairs, and ordered the small gate, leading to Portugal-street, to be shut and guarded, so as to prevent the people from getting round that way to interrupt us when we went through the great gates into Carey-street; and I ordered those gates to be shut as soon as the Duke should have passed. I addressed a few words to the gentlemen, who had assisted in considerable numbers, and requested them to occupy the stone steps which the Duke would have to descend, in order to reach his horse. This they did with great heartiness, and they exhibited, I may say, a fierce determination to defend the Duke against all corners. A butcher was bawling lustily against the Duke, when a young gentleman, a solicitor, seized him by the collar with one hand and knocked him down with the other, and the mob seemed rather amused at it. The Duke, upon my return up-stairs, asked how he was to find his way out of the Inn. I told him that I would walk before him. He would allow no one to hold or to touch his horse whilst he mounted. He was pale, with a severe countenance, and immovable on his saddle, and looked straight before him, and so continued whilst I was with him. Lords Granville Somerset and Eliot rode on each side of him, and of course his groom behind. I walked in front, and shortly a brother barrister came up and asked me if he might walk with me. I gladly accepted his arm, and we moved on, the mob all the time being in a state of fury. When we reached Lincoln's Inn- fields a policeman made his appearance, and drawing his staff prepared for an onslaught. I called to him, and told him that the Duke's progress was under my direction, and that I desired he would put up his trun- cheon and keep himself quiet until I called upon him to act, and that he would communicate this order to the other policemen as they came up.
This kept them perfectly quiet. As we proceeded, the noise of the mob attracted the workmen in the shops and manufactories, particularly in Long Acre, where the upper windows were quickly opened by workmen who, with their paper caps, rushed to join the people; but nowhere was any personal violence offered to the Duke, and the respectable portions of the crowd would promptly have crushed any attempt at violence. I had walked from the West End to my chambers that morning, and I recollected that there was an excavation at the west end of Long Acre, and a large mass of paving and other stones collected there. I ordered several of the police to go there in advance quietly and occupy the ground, so as to pre- vent any one from making use of the stones. This they did ; but, scan- dalous as the conduct of the mob was, I must do them the justice to say that they showed no disposition to get at the stones. When we reached the West End streets the people tailed off a good deal. As the Duke passed the United Service Club he maintained his rigid posture, and cast no glance that way, whilst a few men, who had rushed out of the club upon hearing the noise, looked on with wonder. Nothing more occurred ; and when we got opposite to the clock of St. James's Palace I, for the first time, turned round, and there being only a few stragglers left, the Duke and his companions shook hands with me, and thanked me, and putting their horses into a trot reached Apsley House without further annoyance. On that day the gentlemen of Lincoln's Inn did their duty. The Duke received addresses from the inhabitants of the parishes whose lower orders had disgraced themselves. The deputations included men of the highest consideration. He afterwards gave a dinner to the deputations, at which I was a guest. Harry Baring, who was one of the guests, told me that he had dined with most of the princes of Europe, but that he had never seen such a magnificent display as at this dinner. When we consider the man and the day, the scene in the streets must have been most painful to the Duke : he never once recurred to it in any communication which I had with him. The scene is vividly before me. It is singular that I should be asked, at the end of twenty-eight years, to describe it. I have to trust wholly to memory, as I never before wrote down any incident of this painful day."
We are bound to say thatthe gem of this volume, and it has one gem, is the "character" of Wellington by M. Brialmont, to be found in the Appendix of this, as it was to be found in the Appendix of the first edition of this joint biography. It is clear and manly, full of pointed details, yet not overladen; it is often keen and sometimes profound. At the same time we do not desire to underrate the value of the anecdotes Mr. Gleig has judiciously retained in this edition. They are the best part of his work, and the manner of putting them before us shows Mr. Gleig himself in the most estimable light of a warm admirer of his hero and a hearty lover of his good works, his just and simple ways. Having spoken frankly of the defects of his book, we feel bound to be equally frank in admitting that Mr. Gleig, although he has not written a good life of Wellington, has done a public service in putting together some materials of great value, for which, when the fit man comes, he will be grateful.
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