THE DUKE'S FUNERAL. [From the Times, November 19.]

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume IX, Issue 801, 6 April 1853, Page 4

THE DUKE'S FUNERAL. [From the Times, November 19.]

London yesterday must 'have fared ill \a the sober judgment of a stranger unacquainted with the history and character of the British people. The wt)ole population appeared to be bent on feasting its eyes with & funereal pageant, of no extraordinary beauty, the subject of which was a man whose death had long been a matter of constant expectation. The passion had assumed the foim of a positive monomania. To the one object of doing the thing worthily, and beholding it thoroughly, all other considerations had given way. A grflu political question, lately held sufficient to cause a dissolution of Parliament, and ■ session at an unusual time, had been almost indefinitely postponed, to make way for this paramount necessity. As the Chancellor of the Exchequer observed, an economical nation bad rejected all thought of expense ; a practical nation bad surrendered itself to a mere sentiment ; a busy nation bad resolved to waste a day ; »n uu-

ostentatious nation bad all of a sudden determined on & pompous display of public affliction. Not -a siDgle institution or arm of the State but was pressed into this new tervice, or, to speak more correctly, volunteered in part. The jCrown, the Legislature, the array, every department of the public service, tbe Cburcb, tbs municipalities, tbe aristocratic and mercantile classes, down to tbe very populace, contended with a strange rivalry to be foremost iv the work of doing honour to one roan. So the principal thoroughfare for half the length of the metropolis was converted into the theatre of this great national eulogy. The nobleman's mansion and huckster's shop were equally prepared for the reception of tbe spectators. Deal benches started into existence wherever it was possible to place them. They filled every shop window, surmounted every wall, occupied every vacant space, from the gardens of a palace to the burial-ground of a ctrarch and the site of a house recently pulled down. It was said yesterday that more than 200,000 seats had been constructed and offered for sale, and the greater part were taken. To avail themselves of their several opportunities, Parliament was adjourned, a bolyday made by law in tbs city, tbe shops were closed, and every artisan was early on the, ground, in quest of a good standing position. While it was yet dark the pavements were occupied, and the barriers threatened witb the impatient admirers of « man infinitely above the condition of the vulgar, and who never made much-profession of sympathy for it. " The city is mad," said a few cynical observers. But the country was mad too. Though floods had interrupted tbe railway traffic, and the barometer was below " much rain ;" though the day before had been showery, and the night promised still worse ; though the .streets were ankle deep in mud, and average accommodation Was a guinea a sitting ; still London was full of country folks, attracted by tbe name of a man whose greatness in their minds was little more than a tradition from their fathers. How it passed we need not here tell. Scarce a seat was vacant, not a standing room without its obstinate tenant, as prepared to endure the inclemency of the skies as the men who first revolutionized France. The pageant went its way, and has left an iodestruciible idea in near a million minds. in the ordinary course of things, a century hence there will still be some score old people in this country who will talk to incredulous hearers of tbe Duke of Wellington's funeral ; and in the year 2000, A.D., there will be a few score more who will relate what their own fathers told them about it. Now, whence is this madness ? England is not particularly prone to idolize her great men. Nowhere are heroes so cheap as in this country. Men walk about our streets who have conquered formidable armaments, added vast territories to the empire, extinguished ancient but hostile dynasties and done works of peace still more wonderful, but they are scarcely pointed out to the stranger. Our neighbours count their heroes by the dozen, and , point with a smile to our one or two. The answer is, that we don't make a man a hero for merely giving ns an Algeria. We are usually little addicted to war. We have few military spectacles. We cannot call to mind when so large a body of regular troops was brought^ together, and made into oqe army, as that whicif the Duke of CanHridge commanded yesterday. Nor are we lavish of our public honours. Forty six years have passed since our last public fnneral on at all an equal scale. It cannot be fairly said that we are given to shows of any kind, If it were so, we might have many more, for wealth and industry such as ours might bring all the pageants of the world to this metropolis. The truth is, that we are not a demonstrative people. We fall at once to calculation. We are admirers of the solid and substantial, and forget thai solidity itseli is also an empty show. Then, what reason can be found in the national character 'for the extraordinary scene presented yesterday by this metropolis, and which was the climax of two stonths' excitement ? None. Excited though London and all England undoubtedly were, they had not lost their balance. They were not giving way to an infectious folly or a constitutional infirmity. This was not madness. It was an act of soberness and truth. England is jealous of the great, critical of demands upon her admiration, suspicious of tbe good, and resolved to admit no claims dangerous to liberty or virtue. Tbe selfish, the factious, the pompous, the personal man, whatever his genius, is sure to be scouted, and, even if he should force bis way to greatness, never receives sympathy, and dies unregretted. Thus it must, indeed, have been a rare combination of rare qualities that conjured from its deepest re* cesses all the enthusiasm of this country. It must have been one to be admired more than Marlborougb, and loved more then Albemaile, who took ns all go by surprise, and made us feel a loss where we did not expect it. We shall not now attempt to describe this oft described character and these oft enumerated excellences. The Duke has now passed into history, and to history we leave the noble shadow of his renown. But we may tell our neighbours, and our own critical | fellow-subjects that what we witnessed yesterday could only have been elicited by greatness and goodness far above tbe common run of heroic | men. We may not be the best judges for other countries, but ne are very severe judges to ourselves and to our countrymen. The Duke has won that great prize, a people's conjoint admiration and love, which Marlborough himself never grasped. It is qnly because he was a much greater man. Nelson and Wellington were both great men ; but it is as the greatest of tbe great, and as extraordinary both for integrity and power, that we pay Wellington these vast accumulated treascies of regard. We have long husbanded our admiration, aud have now found a man entitled to it. Let the memory of that great man be cherished and honoured ; for by him the Lord hath wrought our deliverance.