Britain has produced few outstanding generals.
The late eighteenth century and early nineteenth were no exceptions. In fact, British policy tended to focus on sea power and, when it came to war on land, use its money to pay other people to provide armies to do the fighting for us.
That makes it all the more remarkable that in one man, Wellington, Britain produced an unusually successful general, one who never lost a battle.
That statement needs qualifying, however. He came extremely close – perilously close – to losing one, the biggest of his career: Waterloo. As he admitted himself, ’ it has been a damned nice thing — the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life’. Some extraordinary mistakes by Napoleon, and poor leadership by subordinates on the field itself, combined with the sheer determination of the Prussians to get there in time to play a decisive role, turned what might have been calamitous defeat into a victory that gave Wellington the glorious reputation that he has held ever since.
In any case, his military career was by no means his only career. Christopher Hibbert does an excellent job of tracing Wellington’s continued endeavours, first as a diplomat as the victorious powers decided the fate and map of Europe for at least the next generation, and then as a politician, culminating in his taking office as British Prime Minister.
What emerges is a man firmly stuck with the ideas and outlook of the environment in which he grew up, in which only the elite in society was qualified for leadership and power, whether in government or the military. Wellington looked after his men, but only insofar as it was necessary to maintain them as an effective fighting force; as people he never disguised his contempt for them.
And they responded in kind, for instance by behaving with vicious brutality in many of the cities they captured in Spain.
In later life, as a politician he continued with this dismissive attitude towards the common people, resisting any move to extend their rights and reacting with violence to action to advance their interests or threaten the privileges of the class to which he belonged.
He was, despite that, much loved and revered. Indeed, he often displayed generosity, especially towards children. Sometimes, however, he could be hard and unjust. His wife discovered that in the most painful way: while Wellington loved many women, even taking over a mistress or two of Napoleon’s, he quickly fell out of love with his own wife, whom he treated badly.
In other words, he was a mixture of many parts. Often brilliant, generous, even endearing, he could also be insufferably superior, harsh and ruthless. A man of many sides, soldier, diplomat or politician, generous, loving, kind and cruel, he emerges from this fine biography painted with all the complexity he deserves. All that Christopher Hibbert captures well.
On the other hand, there were moments when I could have done with a little less. Hibbert makes it clear that his book is a ‘personal history’, but I felt there was more than enough – for my taste – on such matters as Wellington’s portraits and his views of the men who painted them. That, however, is my taste and others might well particularly enjoy this more private side of the life of a public man.
In any case, overall I found the biography absorbing and informative.