Look at the course of business in the House of Lords during the last few years, and you will observe that the Duke of Wellington has been the presiding spirit of that assembly.  Nothing was done—­nothing could be done without him; for he carries with him the proxies of so many of the thinking, experienced, far-seeing, influential of his countrymen.

It has been argued, that the Duke of Wellington possesses all this influence by virtue of his leadership of a powerful party.  Of course this means that any other leader of the conservatives could possess as much, or it means nothing.  It is a fallacy.  The Duke of Wellington’s claims are almost entirely personal.  It is to himself alone that all this silent homage is paid.  Even were he to retire from active life to-morrow, still would he be followed into his retirement by political pupils, eager to imbibe those distillations of practical wisdom which his sagacity extracts from his vast stores of experience.

The fundamental basis of this power is his high military reputation; though that alone could not have secured it, unless accompanied by his firm principles and habits of observation.  England differs from France in this respect,—­that while our neighbours are more ready to elevate talent above property than we are, they are less choice as to the degree of the talent which they exalt.  But if the English once know that they possess a first-rate man, they place him from that hour securely on an eminence, whence he may look down as from the heavens, upon wealth, rank, blood, and every earthly distinction.  The Duke of Wellington is a first-rate man; and his countrymen acknowledge it with pride.  But his mind is sui generis.  His qualities are eminently useful:  he could never have condescended to be brilliant.  His mind is that of iron mould that defies alike warping, meretricious polish, or demolition.

It is a conviction of the thorough and unflinching honesty of his views and principles, and of the clear perception, the fruitful experience, and sound practical sense which regulate his opinions, that makes the Duke of Wellington the governing spirit in the House of Peers.  There is no man in that house, be his talents or his services what they may, whose opinion carries so much weight with it; for there is no other man so independent of party.  All the others, however moderate their natures or honest their intentions, have been compelled to give in at some time or other to the spirit of party.  But the Duke is above party.  He entered the House of Peers with an overpowering reputation, which enabled him from the first to take high ground.  He does not need to curry favour with any man; nor does he fear to offend even the most powerful of his supporters, when his cause is just.