Privilege and Power

I have just finished reading Philip Haythornthwaite's Wellington: The Iron Duke. It's a well-written, very accessible little book, (which doesn't make you feel like an idiot for not knowing the insider's jargon). Haythornthwaite deals with, perhaps the most accomplished British General, certainly since Marlborough, a man who demonstrated his prowess in India, confirmed his abilities during the Peninsula war, which liberated Portugal and Spain, then fixed his place in history with the defeat of Napoleon.


Haythornthwaite traces Wellington's development from his childhood in Ireland, through his military training (surprisingly, some of it was in France), through his triumphs and subsequent political career. Although he was born in Ireland, Wellington was really part of the English aristocracy, but he bore that mantle well. In fact, one of the recurring problems of Wellington's long and distinguished career arose from the system of preferment, based largely on social standing, which prevented him from giving promotion on the basis of merit. At times, he was able to sidestep this by advancing careers through the Portuguese army, of which he was also head, but it apparently riled him to see the inexperienced sons of the landed gentry given posts to which they were not at all entitled. He wrote:

I, who command he largest British army that has been employed against the enemy for many years, and who have upon my hands certainly the most expensive and difficult concern that was ever imposed upon any British officer, have not the power of making even a corporal!

Having said that, Wellington himself benefited from this system early in his career, especially when serving in India, where his older brother had a great deal of political influence. However, later in life, he saw how dangerous this system could be.

Although he could be aloof and reserved, Wellington at least had an admiration for the common man. He retained the prejudices of his age, especially in his fear of mob rule, and he did not believe that commoners raised from the ranks made good officers, since he thought them more likely to succumb to drink; but he did not despise those who had been born without the advantages of rank and wealth. This passage, by Wellington, caught my attention:

Perhaps there is no man now existing who would like to meet me on a field of battle; in that line I am superior. But when the war is over and the troops disbanded, what is your great general more than anyone else? I am necessarily inferior to every man in his own line, though I may excel him in others. I cannot saw and plane like a carpenter, or make shoes like a shoemaker, or understand cultivation like a farmer. Each of these, on his own ground, meets me on terms of superiority. I feel I am but a man.

Probably, in his own day, few people would have accused Wellington of excessive humility, but in contrast to many others, he retained a sense of perspective. He did not think of himself as better than others, simply because he was the most successful soldier of his generation. I suspect that, in our supposedly more egalitarian age, that is a lesson we would do well to note.