He had been an
obscure and "foolish" boy at school (to all appearance). He had failed
to make his mark as a military student on the Maine. He had been a
dilettante staff officer, and a reticent member of Parliament. Money
and family had apparently made him what he was--neither better nor
worse than many another young British officer. In his brief campaign
in France, he had conducted himself creditably, but had come away with
a distaste for the service, as it was then conducted.
To revert to our former parallel--Napoleon at twenty-eight was on the
high road to world mastery. Wellington at twenty-eight had not yet
found himself. But now on his trip to India he was on the threshold of
his career. His deeds there and on other fields were to astonish the
world. Did they also astonish the silent officer himself?
It would require a detailed account of the Indian campaign to trace
adequately the gradual rise of this officer in the service. For his
was not a meteoric or spectacular rise. It was by gradual steps--but
each step found him _fully prepared_. This, perhaps, is as near the
secret of the great soldier's success as we can get. He was never a
self-advertiser. He never talked much. But he was keenly observant,
and his wonderfully retentive memory aided him at every turn.
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