ailure of all soldiership and
Toryism to go heartily along in the cause of the many. There has been
the sovereign instance of Napoleon Bonaparte himself--of the allies
after him--of Charles the Tenth--of Louis Philippe, albeit a
"schoolmaster,"--and lastly, of this strange and most involuntary
Reformer the Duke of Wellington, who refused to do, under Canning, or
for principle's sake, what he consented to do when Canning died, for the
sake of regaining power, and of keeping it with as few concessions as
possible. Canning perished because Toryism, or the principle of power
for its own sake, to which he had been a servant, could not bear to
acknowledge him as its master. His intellect was just great enough (as
his birth was small enough) to render it jealous of him under that
aspect. There is an instinct in Toryism which renders pure intellect
intolerable to it, except in some inferior or mechanical shape, or in
the flattery of voluntary servitude. But, by a like instinct, it is not
so jealous of military renown. It is glad of the doubtful amount of
intellect in military genius, and knows it to be a good ally in the
preservation of power, and in the substitution of noise and show for
qualities fearless of inspection. Is it an ascendancy of this kind which
the present age requires, or will permit? Do we want a soldier at the
head of us, when there is nobody abroad to fight with? when
international as well as national questions can manifestly settle
themselves without him? and when his appearance in the seat of power
can indicate nothing but a hankering after those old substitutions of
force for argument, or at best of "an authority for a reason," which
every step of reform is hoping to do away? Do we want him to serve in
our shops? to preside over our studies? to cultivate "peace and good
will" among nations? wounding no self love--threatening no social?

There never was a soldier, purely brought up as such--and it is of such
only I speak, and not of rare and even then perilous exceptions,--men
educated in philosophy like Epaminondas, or in homely household virtues
and citizenship like Washington--but there never was a soldier such as I
speak of, who did more for the world than was compatible with his
confined and arbitrary breeding. I do not speak, of course, with
reference to the unprofessional part of his character. Circumstances,
especially the participation of dangers and vicissitude, often conspire
with naturally good