The modes of warfare and the structure of society have undergone such an utter change that it appears delusive to seek any parallel for the achievements of Wellington in the records of ancient history. The naked fact that he had to contend against the incomparable military genius of Napoléon, and without any exaggeration became “_le vainqueur du vainqueur du monde_” attests in the severe sobriety of History more than the most fulsome adulation. All the great conquerors of the ancient world--Sesostris, Alexander, Hannibal, Cæsar--were invaders: Wellington’s battles were nearly all defensive of human rights and liberty. In Roman annals he may be most fittingly compared to Scipio Africanus, the conqueror of Hannibal--the more especially for the purity of both their characters. In Grecian history he might be likened to Themistocles, who also maintained a glorious defensive war, but that the English, unlike the Greek hero, was incorruptible. His character is a compound of the two great joint rulers of Athens--of the military conduct of Themistocles and the inflexible justice of Aristides. The admirable strokes of policy by which Themistocles circumvented Xerxes might be paralleled in several parts of Wellington’s career, who like Themistocles could lead his foes astray as well as rout them at Salamis. There is one part of the Athenian’s character, his venality, over which the Englishman towers with transcendent superiority. There is another, and curious particular, in which the comparison is likewise to his advantage. Themistocles was unskilled in music, and therefore by his contemporaries (who prized that art so highly) twitted with ignorance, as Cicero informs us. (_Tusc. Quest. lib._ i.) Plutarch, (_lib._ i.) and Athenæus (_lib._ xiv.) mention that those who were unskilled in the harp were forced jocosely to sing to the accompaniment of a branch of laurel or myrtle held in a cithara-like form, as we sometimes now-a-days see a wag perform a tune with poker and bellows. The ancients in their banquets were in the habit of sending round the lyre to each of the guests in succession, an event of which kind caused Themistocles to be found wanting, from whence Quintilian (_lib._ i. cap. 16) takes occasion to inculcate on his pupils the necessity of learning music. The same practice prevailed amongst our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, at whose feasts the harp was sent round in a precisely similar manner. (Bede, _Hist. Eccles. Anglor._ iv. 24.) The Duke of Wellington’s love of music is inherited from his accomplished father, the Earl of Mornington, and his Directorship of the Ancient Concerts proves that he is not more devoted to Mars than to Apollo.