HL Deb 19 November 1852 vol 123 cc239-43
The EARL of DERBY

My Lords, I will, by moving the adjournment of the House, put myself strictly in order in addressing a few observations to your Lordships on a subject to which I am anxious to call your Lordships' attention. My Lords, I desire to express the deep satisfaction and the deep thankfulness which I have experienced, and which I am sure your Lordships will have experienced, at the more than satisfactory result which attended the great solemnity of yesterday. My Lords, I think it is matter of humble thankfulness to Almighty God that an event which brought together such masses of persons as never before have congregated, under any circumstances whatever, in this great metropolis, should have passed over, not only without any signal calamity, but without being attended by any—or rather attended by so few — of those casualties which are contingent upon every great congregation of persons, even upon a much smaller scale, but which in this case were rendered more probable by the necessarily hasty and hurried manner in which many of the preparations were made for the accommodation of that greatmultitude. My Lords, I think that I may even say that the providential change in the weather in the course of yesterday was no light circumstance, not only in adding to the comfort of the vast multitude assembled to witness that solemnity, but also in diminishing, to a great extent, the amount of risk, of confusion, and of danger which all ceremonials of this kind must necessarily more or less involve. But it would be most unjust if I were to withhold—and if I did so your Lordships, I am sure, would consider that I was committing an injustice—if I were to withhold the tribute of my applause and satisfaction at the perfect organisation, the admirable arrangements, the entire discipline with which the whole of that great ceremony was marshalled and conducted, and at the discretion and the judgment which were manifested by all those civil and military authorities who took a part in carrying out this national testimonial. My Lords, nothing could have been more admirable than the temper and the patience with which both the troops and the police conducted themselves — the troops under arms, and the police on duty, for a period of at least eleven or twelve hours, and engaged during the whole of that time in unremitting exertions in preserving order. But, my Lords, we must not omit to do justice also to another class, without whose signal co-operation and admirable conduct the best arrangements might have been marred—I do not say that the efforts of the military and the police would have been unavailing— but which doubtless rendered that task, arduous as it must have been under any circumstances, a matter of comparative ease and safety. My Lords, I allude to that upon which we may look with pride and gratification—I mean the admirable temper, patience, forbearance, and good conduct which was manifested by the whole of these incredible masses. When we consider how large a proportion of the population of these United Kingdoms was for that single day crowded together in the streets of this metropolis; when you remember, as those at least remember to whose lot it fell to take part in the procession, and who saw it throughout its whole length and breadth—when you remember that on a line of route three miles in length, extending from Grosvenor-place to St. Paul's Cathedral, there was not a single unoccupied foot of ground, and that you passed through a living sea of faces, all turned to look upon that great spectacle—when you saw every house, every window, every housetop loaded with persons anxious to pay their last tribute of respect to the memory of England's greatest son—when you saw those persons (those, at least, within the streets) remaining with entire and unflinching patience for many hours in a position in which movement was hardly possible, and yet that scarce a single accident occurred to the most feeble woman or child amid that vast mass— when, throughout the whole of that length, not only was a perfect decorum preserved, and a ready assistance given to the efforts of the police and the military, but there was exhibited no unseemly desire merely to witness that magnificent spectacle, no light and thoughtless applause at the splendour of that spectacle; when you saw how the people of England, in the awful silence of those vast crowds, testified in the most emphatic manner the sense in which every man among them felt the public loss which England had sustained—I know not, my Lords, how you may have looked upon this manifestation of public feeling and good sense and order, but I know this, that as I passed along those lines it was with pride and satisfaction I felt that I was a fellow-countryman of those who knew so well how to regulate and control themselves; and I could not help entertaining a hope that those foreign visitors who have done us and themselves the honour of assisting at this great ceremonial might, upon this occasion, as upon the 1st of May, 1851, bear witness in their own countries how safely and to what extent a people may be relied upon, on whom the strongest hold of their Government is their own reverence and respect for the free institutions of their country, and the principles of popular self-government controlled and modified by constitutional monarchy. My Lords, when we had passed over the long line of the procession, and had entered into that magnificent edifice, I think that few who were present can, to the latest moment of their lives, forget the scene which they witnessed there. Who will forget the effect when, throughout the length and breadth of that vast cathedral, the pealing anthem swelled the note not of praise, but of sorrow? Who will forget the effect when, in ready acquiescence to the request publicly communicated, within that immense edifice 16,000 voices joined simultaneously in the responses to the common prayer of every Christian man? And, my Lords, when the close of that impressive solemnity ap- proached—when, amidst solemn and mournful music, slowly, and inch by inch, the coffin which held the illustrious dead descended into its last and honoured resting-place, my Lords, I was near enough to see the countenances of many of the veteran companions of his labours and of his triumphs—near enough to hear the labouring breath which scarcely checked the tears which would not have disgraced the cheek of England's hardiest warriors, as they looked down for the last time upon all that was mortal of their late mighty leader. Honour, my Lords, to the people who so know how to reverence their illustrious dead! Honour to those friendly nations who, renewing their old companionship in his triumphs and his glory, joined in the general tribute of respect to him whose renown was not English, nor European, but world-wide, and who associated their own countries for the last time with the name and the glories of Wellington! And, my Lords, honour—let me say it also—to that great and friendly nation, our relations with whom in times long gone by, and I trust never to return, incapacitated her from participating in the national triumph with which we celebrated his military fame, but who yet, my Lords, in joining in the public mourning over the departed hero, forgot for a time their old national prejudices, and by the presence of their representative testified their respect and their veneration for his memory! If they thought of him as a foe at all, it was as one who had been so in the discharge of his duty to his country—it was as a foeman worthy of their steel; and they remembered, perhaps, with pardonable pride, that never were his military talents and abilities more highly tested, and more severely tried, than when opposed in the field to the valour of their troops, and the science and the skill of their commanders. My Lords, we have paid the last tribute to our illustrious hero's mortal remains; we have consigned him to the grave; but in so consigning him, I trust we shall not forget, in the burial of our greatest warrior, that we have buried perhaps the man among us who had the greatest horror of the miseries of war:—that every effort, every energy of his mind, in the field, in the camp, and in the senate, was directed not to the mere attainment of victory, of fame, or of glory, but that the hope to which he always looked forward was, that the victories for which he struggled would be the means of securing to his country and to the world the blessings of lasting peace. My Lords, I trust that in burying him we have not taken leave of and buried the recollection of the principles which he supported and advocated. I am sure that I am speaking in the spirit of him whose loss we all deplore when I say (and I feel confident your Lordships agree with me), that I look upon war in itself as the greatest curse with which a country can be afflieted, and upon unnecessary war as the greatest crime of which a statesman can be guilty. I am sure, my Lords, that the great and paramount object of this country is the maintenance of a firm and honourable peace; but I am no less convinced of the necessity of that principle which it was his constant duty to inculcate upon successive Governments—namely, that in order to maintain the security and permanence of peace, every nation must have within itself those means of self-defence and self-dependence which should not provoke aggression by its weakness, more especially if to that weakness be added the possession of unbounded wealth. My Lords, I trust that we shall bear this in mind, not in words only, but in our actions and policy, and that setting aside all political and party considerations, we shall conour in this opinion—that, in order to be peaceful, England must he powerful; but that she ought to be powerful, only to be more securely peaceful.

House adjourned to Monday next.