HOUSE OF COMMONS, Nov. 15th.

Lyttelton Times, Volume III, Issue 118, 9 April 1853, Page 9

HOUSE OF COMMONS, Nov. 15th.

mk. Disraeli's funeral oration on the death of the duke of wellington-

Her Majesty's Message in reference to the funeral of the late Duke of Wellington having been read, the Chancellor of the Exchequer rose and said: —" Sir, the House of Commons is called upon to-night to perform a sorrowful, but a noble duty. It has to recognise, in the face of the country and of the civilised world, the loss of the most distinguished of our citizens, and to offer to the ashes of the great departed the solemn anguish of a bereaved nation. The princely personage who has left us was born in an age more fruitful of great events than any other period of recorded time. Of these vast incidents the most conspicuous were his own deeds, and they, which were productive of the mightiest consequences, were accomplished with the smallest means, in the face of the greatest obstacles. He was, therefore, not only a great man, but the greatest man of a great age. Amid thechaos and conflagration which attended the end of the last century, there arose one of those beings who seem born to master mankind. It is not too much. Sir, to say that Napoleon combined the imperial aidour of Alexander with the strategy of Hannibal. The kings of the earth fell before his subtle genius, and he denounced destruction against the only land which dared to disobey him and be free. The providential superintendence of the world seems scarcely ever more manifest than when we recollect this dispensation —that the same year should produce the French Emperor and the Duke of Wellington ; that in the same year they should have embraced the same profession ; and that, natives of two distant islands, they should both have repaired for their military education to that same land which each, in his turn, was destined to subjugate. During that long struggle for our freedom, our glory, and, T may say, our existence, Wellesley fought and won fifteen pitched battles, all of the highest class, concluding with one of those crowuing victories that give a colour and a form to history. During this period, that can be said of him which can be said of no other general, that in the capture of 3000 cannon he never lost a single gun. But the greatness of his exploits was perhaps surpassed by the difficulties he had to encounter. He had to encounter a feeble Government, a factious opposition, and a mistrustful people—scandalous allies—and the most powerful enemy in the world. He won victories with starving troops, and carried sieges without proper materiel. And, as if to complete the fatality which attended him throughout life in

this respect, when he had at last succeeded in creating an army worthy of theKoman Legions and of himself, this invincible host was broken up on the eve of the greatest conjunctura of his life, and he had to enter the field of Waterloo with an army of raw levies and discomfited allies. But the star of Wellesley never paled. He has been called fortunate—for fortune is a divinity that ever favours those who are at the same time sagacious and intrepid, inventive and patient (cheers). It was his own character that created his career—achieved his exploits—and guarded I him from vicissitudes, for it was his sublime self-control that regulated his lofty fame (cheers). But, Sir, it has of late years been somewhat the fashion to disparage the military character : forty years of peace have made us, perhaps, somewhat less aware of the considerable and complex qualities that go to the formation of a great General. It is not that he must be an engineer—a geographer—learned in human nature—adroit in the management of men —that he must be able to fulfil the highest duty of a Minister of State, and then to descend to the humblest office of a commissary and a clerk ; but he has to display all this knowledge and to exise all those duties at the same time, and under extraordinary circumstances. At every moment he has to think of the eve and of the morrow—of his flank and of his rear—he has to carry with him ammunition, provisions, hospitals—he has to calculate at.the same time the state of the weather and the moral qualities of men; and all those elements that are perpetually changing he has to combine, sometimes under overwhelming heat, sometimes under overpowering cold—oftentimes in famine, and frequently. amidst the roar of artillery (hear, hear, hear). Behind all these circumstances there is ever present the image of his country, and the dreadful alternative whether that country is to welcome him with laurel or with cypress (hear, hear). Yet those images he must dismiss from his mind, for the General must not only think, but think with the rapidity of lightning; for on a moment more or less depends the fate of the most beautiful combination—and amomentmore or less is a question of glory or of shame (hear, hear). Unquestionably, Sir, all this may be done in an ordinary manner, by an ordinary man, as every day of our lives we see that ordinary men may be successful ministers of state, successful authors, and successful speakers —but to do all this with genius is sublime (hear, hear, hear). To be able to think with vigour, with depth, and with clearness in the recesses of the Cabinet, is a great intellectual demonstration, but to think with equal vigour, clearness, and depth amidst the noise of bullets, appears to me the loftiest exercise and the most complete triumph of human faculties (cheers). When we take into consideration the prolonged and illustrious life of the Duke of Wellington, one is surprised at how small a space is occupied by that military career of his which fills so large a place in history. Only eight years elapsed from Vimiera to Waterloo ; and from the date of his first commission to the last cannon shot he heard in the field of battle, twenty years could scarcely be counted (hear, hear). He was destined for another profession ; and the greatest and most successful warrior, if not in the prime, at least in the perfection of manhood, he commenced that civil career scarcely less successful or less splendid than the military one that lives in the memory of man (cheers). He was thrice the ambassador of his Sovereign at those great historic Congresses that have settled the affairs of Europe ; he was twice Secretary of State ; he was twice Commander-in-chief of the forces; once he was Prime Minister; and to the last hour of his life he may be said to have laboured for his country (hear, hear). It was only a few months before we lost him that he favoured by his council and assistance the present advisers of the Crown, respecting that war in the East of which no one was so competent to judge. He drew up his advice in a state paper worthy ot his genius—and when he died, he died still the active chieftain of that illustrious army to nhich he has left the tradition of his fame (cheers). Sir, there is one passage in the life of the Duke of Wellington which, in this place, and on this occasion, I ought not to let pass unnoticed. It is our pride that he was one of ourselves (hear, hear, hear). It is our glory that Sir Arthur Wellesley once sat on these benches (f.-ieurs). Sir, there is one source of consolation wi.ica I think the people of England possess at tins moment, under the severe bereavement wlucu they mourn over—it is their intimate acquaintance with the character, and even with the p<;v>; of

this great man (hear, hear). There never was a "■reat man who lived so long and so much in tue public eye (hear, hear)- I will be bound there is not a gentleman in this house that has not seen him—many there are who have conversed with him—some there are who have touched his hand; his iniage-his countenance—his man-ner-his voice are impressed upon every men oiy, and live in every ear (cheers). In the golden saloon,and in the busy market-place, to the last he might be found. The rising generation, amongst whom he lived, will recollect his words of kindness; and the people followed him m the streets with that lingering glance of reverent admiration which seemed never to tire (cheers). The Duke of Wellington has left to his country a great legacy —greater even than his fame —he has left the contemplation of his character (hear, hear, hear). I will not say that in England he revived a sense of duty—that I trust was never o-one ; but he has made the sense of public life more masculine —he has rebuked, by his career, restless vanity, and reprimanded the morbid susceptibility "of irregular egotism (cheers). I beg to move, Sir, that an humble address be presented to her Majesty, to thank her for having given directions for the public interment of the remains of Ms Grace the Duke of Wellington, and to assure her Majesty of our cordial aid and concurrence to give the solemnity a fitting degree of importance. Lord John BtssEi/L: I rise to second the motion, but I do not wish to add a single word to the eloquent language in which it has been brought forward (hear). The motion wasj put and carried unanimously. The Chancellor op the Exchequer: I move, Sir, thatthis House shall attend the funeral solemnity. The motion was carried.