Arthur Wellesley, 1st duke of Wellington

Arthur Wellesley
prime minister of Great Britain
byname Iron Duke
born May 1, 1769, Dublin, Ire.
died Sept. 14, 1852, Walmer Castle, Kent, Eng.
Main
British army commander during the Napoleonic Wars and later prime
minister of Great Britain (1828–30). He first rose to military
prominence in India, won successes in the Peninsular War in Spain
(1808–14), and shared in the victory over Napoleon at the Battle of
Waterloo (1815).
Wellington twice reached the zenith of fame with a period of
unexampled odium intervening. By defeating Napoleon at Waterloo he
became the conqueror of the world’s conqueror. After Waterloo he joined
a repressive government, and later, as prime minister, he resisted
pressure for constitutional reform. False pride, however, never
prevented him from retreating either on the field or in Parliament, and
for the country’s sake he supported policies that he personally
disapproved. In old age he was idolized as an incomparable public
servant—the Great Duke. Reaction came after his death. He has been rated
an over-cautious general and, once, Britain’s worst 19th-century prime
minister. Today there is widespread appreciation of his military genius
and of his character as an honest and selfless politician, uncorrupted
by vast prestige.
Early life
Wesley (later, from 1798, Wellesley) was the fifth son of the 1st earl
of Mornington. Too withdrawn to benefit from his Eton schooling, he was
sent to a military academy in France, being, in his widowed mother’s
words, “food for powder and nothing more.” At the age of 18 he was
commissioned in the army and appointed aide-de-camp to the Irish
viceroy. In 1790–97 he held the family seat of Trim in the Irish
Parliament. At 24, though in debt, he proposed to Catherine (Kitty)
Pakenham but was rejected. Arthur abandoned heavy gambling to
concentrate on his profession. As lieutenant colonel of the 33rd Foot by
purchase, he saw active service in Flanders (1794–95), learning from his
superiors’ blunders. After failing to obtain civil employment, he was
glad to be posted to India in 1796.
In India he adopted a regimen of abstemiousness and good humour. The
arrival of his eldest brother, Richard, as viceroy enabled him to
exploit his talents. He commanded a division against Tipu Sultan of
Mysore and became governor of Mysore (1799) and commander in chief
against the Marāthās. Victories, especially at Assaye (1803), resulted
in a peace that he himself negotiated. All the successful qualities he
later exhibited on European battlefields were developed in India:
decision, common sense, and attention to detail; care of his soldiers
and their supplies; and good relations with the civilian population.
Napoleon was unwise in later writing him off as a mere “Sepoy general.”
Wellesley returned to England in 1805 with a knighthood.
Wellesley’s new assignments were disappointing: an abortive
expedition to Hannover, followed by a brigade at Hastings. But he felt
he must serve wherever duty required. One duty was to marry his faded
Kitty in 1806; another was to enter Parliament in order to repel radical
attacks on his brother’s Indian record. He spent two years in Ireland as
Tory chief secretary. On a brief military expedition in Copenhagen
(1807), a welcome break, he defeated a small Danish force. When in 1808
the Portuguese rose against Napoleon, Wellesley was ordered to support
them.
Victory in the Napoleonic Wars
Wellesley did not intend to be “half beaten before the battle began”—the
usual effect on continental armies of Napoleon’s supremacy. With “steady
troops” he expected to master the French attack. His “thin red line” of
British infantry did indeed defeat Gen. Andoche Junot’s columns at
Vimeiro (August 21), but the arrival of two superior British officers
prevented a pursuit because they preferred to sign the unpopular
convention of Sintra, whereby Junot’s army was repatriated. Public
outcry brought about the court-martial of Wellesley and his colleagues.
Though acquitted, Wellesley returned to Ireland as chief secretary.
After the British evacuated Spain, however, he persuaded the government
to let him renew hostilities in 1809, arguing that Portugal could still
be held, a decision that was crucial to Europe. Landing at Lisbon, he
surprised Marshal Nicolas-Jean de Dieu Soult, captured Oporto, and
chased the French back into Spain; but a joint Anglo-Spanish advance on
Madrid failed, despite a victory at Talavera (July 27–28). Though
rewarded with a peerage for his offensive, Viscount Wellington retreated
with his greatly outnumbered force to his Portuguese base, defeating
Marshal André Masséna at Bussaco on the way (September 27, 1810). He had
secretly fortified the famous “lines of Torres Vedras” across the Lisbon
peninsula. Masséna’s evacuation of Portugal in the spring of 1811 and
the loss of Fuentes de Oñoro (May 3–5) triumphantly justified
Wellington’s defensive, scorched-earth policy and confirmed his
soldiers’ trust in him. He was nicknamed “nosey” by his men, and “the
beau” by his officers, for his slim five feet nine inches, the perfectly
cut civilian clothes he preferred to wear, his wavy brown hair, and
brilliant blue eyes.
His slowly growing army was not strong enough to capture the Spanish
fortresses of Ciudad-Rodrigo and Badajoz until 1812. Then, having
defeated “40,000 Frenchmen in 40 minutes” at Salamanca (July 22), he
entered Madrid (August 12). His siege of Burgos failed and his army
retreated again to Portugal, from which it was launched for the last
time into Spain in May 1813. After a dash across the peninsula, he
brought the French to bay at Vitoria, routing them and capturing all
their baggage (June 21). This glittering prize was too much for the
victors, who let the French escape into the Pyrenees, while Wellington
denounced his drunken troops as “the scum of the earth.” The victory at
Vitoria gave impetus to the European alliance against Napoleon, and
Soult’s initial success in the Pyrenees could not prevent Wellington
from taking San Sebastián and Pamplona. When dry weather came,
Wellington invaded France, crossing the river lines one after another
until on April 10, 1814, he stormed into Toulouse, thus ending the
Peninsular War. (Four days earlier Napoleon had abdicated.) Already
marquess and field marshal, he was now created a duke, with the nation’s
gift of £500,000 and later of Stratfield Saye in Hampshire to keep up
his position.
With Napoleon on Elba, Wellington was appointed ambassador to the
restored Bourbon court of Louis XVIII. In February 1815 he took the
place of Viscount Castlereagh, the foreign secretary, at the Congress of
Vienna, but, before delegates could finish their peacemaking, Napoleon
had escaped, landing in France (March 1) to begin his Hundred Days. The
victory of Wellington and the Prussian field marshal Gebhard Leberecht
Blücher on June 18 at Waterloo established the Duke as Europe’s most
renowned—if not most jubilant—hero. “I hope to God that I have fought my
last battle,” he said, weeping for the fallen. “It is a bad thing to be
always fighting.” His hope was fulfilled. As commander in chief during
the occupation of France, he opposed a punitive peace, organized loans
to rescue French finances, and advised withdrawal of the occupying
troops after three years. For these policies he won the gratitude of the
peace congress, returning home in 1818 with the batons (symbol of field
marshal) of six foreign countries.
Role in the cabinet
Wellington’s experiences abroad prevented him from ever becoming a party
politician. Though he joined the Earl of Liverpool’s Tory cabinet as
master general of the ordnance, he exempted himself from automatically
opposing a subsequent Whig government: “a factious opposition,” he
argued, “is highly injurious to the interests of the country.” His
identification with the party of law and order, however, increased when
postwar discontent boiled over in the Peterloo Massacre at a Manchester
demonstration for parliamentary reform and the Cato Street Conspiracy, a
plot to murder the Cabinet. The popular George Canning succeeded
Viscount Castlereagh as foreign secretary in 1822. Despite Canning’s
antipathy to the congress system, Wellington himself overbore George
IV’s personal objections to him, believing that the system was by now
unshakably established. When Canning extricated Britain from its
European commitments, Wellington was left to bitter self-reproach. His
own diplomatic failures at the Congress of Verona (1822), at which he
vainly sought to heal dissension among the European allies, and in
Russia (1826) increased his chagrin. Straightforward to a fault,
Wellington was unsuited to carrying out Canning’s subtle policies, but
he gained respect abroad as an honest man.
In 1825 Wellington turned to Ireland’s problem, formulating it as a
basic dilemma: political violence would end only after the Catholics’
claim to sit in Parliament, known as Catholic Emancipation, had been
granted; yet the Protestant establishment, or ascendancy, must be
preserved. He worked privately at a solution, by which a papal concordat
to ensure at least minimum control of Catholic clergy would be the
precondition of Emancipation. When Canning, an unqualified Emancipator,
became prime minister in April 1827, however, Wellington felt that
Protestant ascendancy was in jeopardy. He and Robert Peel headed a mass
exodus from the government, Wellington also resigning his command of the
army. This action was interpreted as pique at the King’s choosing his
rival for prime minister. In denying the allegation, Wellington rashly
asserted that he, a soldier, would be “worse than mad” to consider
himself fit for the premiership. After Canning’s death that August, he
resumed his army command. Within five months Canning’s successor,
Viscount Goderich, had given up the task, and on January 9, 1828, the
King summoned the Duke of Wellington.
Years as prime minister
The Duke’s aim was to achieve a strong and balanced government by
reuniting the Tory Party. Having reluctantly resigned again as commander
in chief, he invited the Canningites, headed by William Huskisson, to
serve, while dropping the ultra-Tories as incompatible with his policy
of moderation. With the right wing thus alienated, a chasm began to open
on the left. The opposition’s demand for extensive reforms met with
sympathy from Huskisson’s group. Wisely, the Duke retreated, first on a
church issue, himself reforming the Test and Corporation Acts that
penalized Nonconformists, and again on a Corn Law (prohibiting
importation of cheaper foreign grains) question, introducing a more
liberal reform than he and the agricultural interest desired. Shortly
afterward, however, he collided head-on with the Huskissonites on
parliamentary reform; the whole group resigned in May. A further crisis
immediately arose during the by-election in Clare, Ireland, where
William Vesey-Fitzgerald, Huskisson’s ministerial successor, defending
his seat, was defeated by Daniel O’Connell, the Irish Catholic leader.
The defeat of Vesey-Fitzgerald, a popular pro-Catholic, carried an
alarming moral for the Duke: until Emancipation was granted, no Tory
would win in southern Ireland. There might well be civil war. In August
1828 Wellington therefore undertook the most exacting political duty of
his career—the conversion of George IV, Peel, who was now leader of the
Commons, and a majority of Tories to Catholic Emancipation, a reform
that they had hitherto regarded as anathema. It took six months of
indefatigable persuasion behind closed doors to win over the King.
Peel’s position was equally problematic—as a publicly declared
Protestant, he clung to the idea of supporting Emancipation only from
the back benches; but finally Wellington’s patience and Peel’s
generosity prevailed, and he agreed to continue leading the Commons. A
number of ultra-Tories defied to the last Wellington’s order to
“right-about face,” but the majority of the party obeyed. So in April
1829, though the Tories were split, Catholic Emancipation became law,
the Duke’s greatest political victory, with melodrama being added by his
fighting a duel with an abusive ultra-Tory, the Earl of Winchilsea.
Wellington has sometimes been criticized for inconsistency. It now
appears that he was merely secretive in not taking the public into his
confidence much earlier. His willingness for some form of Emancipation
by 1825 might with advantage have been disclosed.
A demand for further changes, already stimulated by Wellington’s own
achievements, was powerfully reinforced by countrywide hardship during
1829–30 and canalized by Charles Grey, the 2nd Earl Grey, the Whig
leader, into fresh moves for parliamentary reform that would allow
industrial towns like Birmingham to have a voice in Parliament, in place
of pocket boroughs owned by the nobility and gentry. Expression of
dissatisfaction with Wellington’s fatalistic attitude toward poverty and
unemployment was made possible when the accession of William IV in 1830,
following George IV’s death, provided a general election. France’s
bourgeois revolution that same year—the July Revolution—greatly
encouraged British reformers. Though Wellington’s ministry survived, it
was weakened, and Huskisson’s sudden death frustrated tentative plans
for reconciliation. Wellington saw parliamentary reform not as a panacea
but as constitutional suicide. A fortnight before the opening of
Parliament he wrote a letter to a friend denouncing reform as ruinous
and disclosing his unalterable decision to oppose it. He staggered
Parliament on November 2 with an uncompromising declaration against any
reform whatever. A combination of reformers and vengeful ultra-Tories
defeated him on the 15th. Peel made him resign the next day. He was
succeeded by Grey.
As a soldier Wellington had shown uncanny ability in guessing what
lay “on the other side of the hill.” Through lack of political
imagination, however, he saw revolution beyond the hill of
reform—“revolution by due course of law.” For this delusion he was
deservedly called reactionary.
Last years
In opposition, the Duke proceeded to thwart Grey’s attempts to get a
reform bill through the Lords. Wellington’s windows were twice smashed
by radical mobs, and his iron shutters helped form the image of an iron
duke. The titanic struggle culminated in the crisis of May 1832, which
promised to end like the July Revolution of France. The King refused to
create enough new peers to overwhelm the hostile Lords, Grey resigned,
and Wellington failed to recruit an alternative government. Faced by
tumultuous deadlock, Wellington, still opposing reform, then retreated
for the sake of the country, persuading his followers to join him in
absenting himself from Parliament until the Reform Bill became law in
June. He was mobbed nonetheless by an angry crowd on Waterloo Day. “An
odd day to choose,” was his only comment.
The Duke’s abstention had saved the Lords, and, as long as he led the
Tory peers, he continued to steer them away from fatal clashes with the
Commons. Whenever possible he supported the King’s government. In 1834
William IV dismissed the Whigs by a political coup, summoning the Duke
to form a ministry; but the 65-year-old duke replied that Peel must be
prime minister. This abnegation, most rare in a politician, did not go
unappreciated. He served under Peel as foreign secretary (1834–35) and
as minister without portfolio (1841–46). He also served as chancellor of
Oxford, constable of the Tower, lord-lieutenant of Hampshire, and elder
brother and later master of Trinity House, not to mention Queen
Victoria’s father figure. He made a mistake in holding the chief command
of the army throughout his last 10 years, because he was past initiating
the reforms that were later sorely needed. Nevertheless, he showed a
touch of his old genius in 1848, when his calm handling of a threatened
Chartist rising prevented any violence. Thanks to his again ordering the
peers to “right-about face,” this time over the Corn Laws, he enabled
Peel to abolish them. Wellington retired from public life after 1846,
though he was still consulted by all parties. Apsley House, his town
residence at Hyde Park Corner, was known as No. 1 London. As lord warden
of the Cinque Ports, he died at Walmer Castle, his favourite residence,
from a stroke in 1852. He was given a monumental state funeral, the last
heraldic one in Great Britain, and was buried in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Personal life
The phrase “retained servant of King and people” and variants of it were
used repeatedly by the Duke of himself and aptly suggest the
self-dedication for which he is chiefly honoured. Many amusing personal
peculiarities in clothes and correspondence, together with a gift for
repartee, made him a “character” as well as a hero. “Publish and be
damned!” was his famous retort to a blackmailer. His marriage was not
happy: Kitty both feared him and worshipped him to excess. She died on
April 24, 1831. Of his two sons, the elder edited his latest Despatches
and the younger produced the grandchildren to whom he was devoted, as he
was to all children. His intense friendships with Harriet (the wife of
Charles) Arbuthnot, Angela Georgina Burdett-Coutts, and others showed
that he could have been happy with a clever woman; perhaps he was
happiest of all, however, in the camaraderie of his staff—his military
family. Some modern historians have objected to the posthumous title
Iron Duke on the reasonable grounds that he was neither cold nor
hardhearted. Yet he himself often boasted of his iron hand in
maintaining discipline. His engaging simplicity and extraordinary lack
of vanity were expressed in a favourite saying, “I am but a man.”
Elizabeth Pakenham, Countess of Longford
Encyclopaedia Britannica