But the Duke’s ascendancy in the House of Peers is not to be referred to the foregoing causes alone.  Had he none of that personal influence derived from services and character to which we have referred, his abilities and information alone would enable him to take high rank.  His claims in these respects are much, underrated by those who are opposed to him in politics.  His reasoning is so simple, clear and palpable—­so much in the character of what is called common sense—­and his style of speaking so unpretending and free from ornament, that superficial observers have set him down as a mere blunt soldier, with a few fixed ideas, and a disposition dogmatically to insist on their adoption.  This is altogether a mistake.  The Duke of Wellington has as much of the true spirit of the statesman as any man who now affects the destinies of this country.  There is scarcely a subject that has come before parliament since the commencement of his political career into which he has not fully entered.  The character of his mind is to grasp every question.  Less than mastery of it—­so far as the formation of a decided opinion according to the lights afforded to or by his mind—­will not satisfy him.  With the exception of one or two questions of high constitutional principle, the “cui bono?” is the view his mind naturally takes.  He is a practical utilitarian, seeking in every measure the utmost quantity of good of which it is capable; not always as much as he would perhaps wish to see, but as much as circumstances allow the hope of securing.

This mode of dealing with subjects is not well calculated for oratorical display, or for the parade of extensive information, even if the unaffected character of the Duke of Wellington would allow him to avail himself of them.  They are cast aside, in pursuit of a less brilliant, but more useful, mode of treatment.  Accordingly, the speeches of the Duke are brief, clear, pointed, and in one sense dogmatical.  After having canvassed details, and brought to bear upon them his long and varied experience, he states his conclusions, accompanying them with the general principles that have guided their formation, in a few brief authoritative sentences.  He is very careless about catching stray listeners, or drawing in his train the prejudiced or the inexperienced; but rather addresses himself to those whose age and wisdom entitle them to anticipate consequences, or to those to whom experience of the value of his opinions may have taught a pre-disposed deference.

At other times, however—­for instance, when making ministerial statements on matters connected with finance, or foreign policy, or important changes in the law—­this short, abrupt, devil-may-care style is changed for one eminently adapted to the object.  No one can then complain of a want of the proper information.  All the historical facts, or figures, or principles, or general details, are then marshalled forward with a regularity and precision