The Sun.
London, England, 1852-09-15 00:00:00

SEPTEMBER 15,

reasoning bigotry that confidence in his own system, and
in his own views, which he was never backward in pro-
-I_airning. If a system, as a fact, produces the gloriet
1
-f a Peninsular war and of a Waterloo campaign, r.
Wellington's individual confidence in it justifies itself.
Nor can we be surprised—nay, we can deeply appreciate
the loyal sentiment—if, after seeing the social, and ma-
• terial, and commercial energies of the State arise creel:
(he depression censeqqaumenet upon, the cessation of the.' lee
'European war, the
political traditions which pr".•iaallianil
viewed,
in thi.
had raised himself and Sir R') •
Bert Pee! to the Government, StatTehpeolDi•ey susc,zntibl(li
of little, if of any
1
improvemeant. k of 'W
leP
Eington's celebrated declaration againstailrefo^rm, wh.iecl
is usually pointed out as his cardinal.f blunder in politics,!,
may be understood and estimated,
ni it cannot he alto-Z
,ther justified, by the consideration
ternporis anti was also the illustriouso
reasonably,
that
tetrhnepoiraLdnactutirl
And that fact was one which might so.intnabiliye,itin him-1
'`self at least, inspire a confidence all but. k
But, us we have said, the leading and P'
•
of " the Duke's" mind was the snse ofpcelruvtyli.ialnidtha%
common meaning of the word, the Duke was not a maoi,
of prejudice. He might have a distinct and very impreg,
,nable personal sense of what was right and reasonable,. but::,
kititohn, atei:
Jhe always accepted facts and a changed
worked in deference to them. He might tEions
gain a bad one, and be might say so in language
tic and intelligible to a fault; but ho always lidioms-;?
madee bt .
~i
best of the bargain, He was just as likely tol l''''''
served tinder Richard Cobden, had the
demanded it, as he did serve with the worthless and service
demanded
digenous generals of Spain. He asked, and with no.
little bitterness, the famous question, How was the
Queen's Government to be carried on? and yet he knew`'
it to be right, and honest, and loyal to help to carry it,..
on, and to keep in office the very men whose principles.'
had, as he considered, made all government an impossi•lei
bility. And shallow talkers think this an evidence of in- li
consistency or they point to it as a proof of the Duke ot4'
Wellington's selfish desire to appropriate power. Till
nobler, and we believe the truer, view—the reconciling t,
and the mellowing estimate—is to believe that, in all;
such cases, Arthur Wellesley saw but plain intelligiblek
duty. If the University of Oxford deemed him likely to
be a good and useful Chancellor, he accepted the office, ,'
because it was, or because he thought it was, his duty..
So with his Premiership—so with his various offices and'
commands, subordinate or paramount. He would haye!A
defended London against the Chartists, or have taken Emil
Affghan command, or have mustered the Kentish Fen-
cibles, or have bored through the drudgery and foppery
of the Trinity Board, or have presided at an uncongenial
Oxford Encania—or, if nobody else had been ready, he
i:
would have sailed in the Channel fleet, or have become ai
Poor-law Guardian—all on the same simple, if uninquir-N
ing, principle of duty. He fought the Spanish cam- 4
paigns, not because he had confidence in Down-
ing-street or in his commissariat, or in his
recruits or allies, but because it was his definite i,
personal work. Ile went to the Chapel Royal in thet
rev morning, because he knew it to be right; and he
was present at every levee—and was ever the earliest,
and the foremost at every ceremonial and pageant, at 1
drawing-room, and at opera and wedding—because it
was expected of him, and he thought it his duty not to
disappoint legitimate expectation. In others, this ap- '
parent love of the monstrari digito would have easily de-
generated into the common-place passion for distinction;
but in the Duke of Wellington it was sustained by s high ~
and elevating principle. The Duke was above vulgar
vanity. One who recognises duty in minute particulars, ,
and who answers all calls, however trifling or onerous,
on that true-hearted, self-devoting sense of duty, must ,
obviously make himself prominent, and fill the public '
eye. And never did he fill it too largely. Never were
. those grey hairs unwelcome to any assemblage of Eng- ',I
lishmen. Never was that stately presence, even when
overcast by the shadow of toil and anxiety, seen in
public, but it was cheered as that of our common friend. '
and councillor, and defender. Can those who witnessed
it ever forget his ovation at the opening of the Great
Exhibition? And it is no small praise to recollect
that, to flattery as to misunderstanding, his iron character ,
was alike invulnerable. 1.
Such solidity and singleness of aim in the Duke ofi.
Wellington were eminently happy in securing popular
appreciation. If the Duke did not win the lower and 4
• the common feeling of love, ho commanded the very rt
highest universal respect and reverence. The character Ni-
we have attempted to analyze, so rigorous and large in 1
its own appreciation of personal calls for exertion and it
work, was not likely to be other than imperious and ex_
act in demanding duty from others. A worker will ad-
mit
no standard of excellence but work. He can sym-
pathise
with but a single order of character—but that the
most generous. A disciplinarian does not attract the;
mere affections. The Duke was too inflexible, too severe,w
too exacting, to be, in the vulgar sense, popular. The
conqueror of Napoleon could afford to move in a some- ::
what solitary sphere. And, as years did their inevitable
~,'•
work, and gnarled what was always angular in the Duke
''
of Wellington's mental and moral conformation, the',
British public had the good sense and the good feeling',
' to go below the surface, and to view that great inner
heart of the true man beating and animated with patriot-
ism, and, beneath the ice of character, to detect the fires '
of genuine and self-sacrificing principle. i
A nation's tears will bedew the hearse of Wellington, --
even though not from the same causes which poured ,i.
them on that of Nelson. The Great Duke—the Iron
Duke—was not the man to feel, nor to call out men, `,'4
sensibility. But he will be appreciated. His fame is a
growing one. The Hero of Waterloo had neither thee
splendid weaknesses nor the warm emotional spirit of'
the Hero of Trafalgar. But the Duke's is a higher, a •
more complete, and a nobler character. If less amiable,
it possesses the consistent, cohesive, solid elements ou
which philosophy and history will delight to dwell. For ,
some years the Duke of Wellington's influence has sur-
vived as a great tradition—he has lived as the witness of a ,
memorable, if imperfect, past, Now that he has actually*.
been removed, we may, perhaps, have occasion too
judge of the actual power and influence of
his presence, when it is finally taken away. A sort 4
of tacit truce has perhaps been submitted to upon -
some, and not unimportant, questions of policy and ad
ministration, from a decorous deference to one whose
name and worth could never be lightly, though they
might possibly, on some occasions, have been justly i
questioned. But are we wrong in forecasting a sterner
strife of politics, and a more developed application of
liberal views, now that the last and noblest representa-
tive
of an older policy no longer controls even the
highest sources of legislation by the resistless magic of ,
his mighty name? Yet, to repel evil, the sword and the
name of Arthur will, we trust, ever prevail, in the Se-
nate which he dignified with his wisdom, and in the'
State which his military skill preserved in the very crisis'',
of its fate, even when its great owner sleeps in Avalon.;
Be this as it may, lot us conclude with words of good
omen—in a sentiment which we are assured will be
that of the whole British nation : Peace to the memory,
and blessings on the name, of Arthur, Duke of Wel-
lington.

(From the Morning Herald.)
The foremost man of all our age" is gathered to hisl
fathers. The Duke of Wellington, sole founder of a
(name and title which will never be forgotten while
'England itself shall remain, is now numbered with the
dead. With his removal from amongst us we have this
solace—no one could desire that he should occupy a
space in such lines as those which tell us how
" From Marlborough's eyes the tears of dotage flow ;
And Swift expires a driveller and a show."
All the service which one man, during a long public
life, could render to his Sovereign and his country, the
Duke of Wellington had rendered. Nothing remained
but a peaceful death, which has now closed the most
important life which any man of modern times has been
permitted to spend. It was peculiarly an English life
the life of an English soldier and statesman. A brief
contrast with that of his mighty rival in arms will ex-
plain our meaning.
The governing principle in the career of Napoleon
Bonaparte was that of selfish ambition. The greater
warrior, who at last subdued and bound him, owned a
higher motive. Duty was the guiding star of his career.
His ambition was to serve, net himself, but his country
and his Sovereign. Naturally a grateful nation ac-
lknowledged his services; but there is not a trace of sor-
did self-seeking in the whole of the Duke of Wellington's
history.
This noble principle led him oven to self-sacrifice, and
that of no ordinary kind. Called, in times of peace, to
serve his Sovereign at the Council Board, he would, if
left to the guidance of his own noble heart, have left as
splendid and as unblemished a fame in civil as in military
history. That ho did not ought rather to command our
greater admiration. Twice controlled by the devices of
the tempter, he surrendered his own unerring judgment
end consented to give up his own convictions, because
he thought that duty commanded the sacrifice. In 1828'
and in 1846 the same evil influence twice prevailed. He
knew that Romish emancipation ought not to have
been granted, and that the corn-laws ought not to
have been repealed. But the associate on whose aid he
most relied each time contrived to place him in such a
position as to make it appear that duty required him
to surrender his own opinions. Thus, in 1846,
the Duke explained to the House of Lords that his own!
opinion had been, " That it was desirable to avoid mak-
ing any alteration which was essential in the present
corn-laws." And that he had preferred seeing Sir R.
Peel resign, rather than make such a proposal. But
then, when Lord John Russell failed to form a Govern-
ment, and Sir Robert Peel returned to office, he suc-
ceeded in making the Duke believe, " That the forma-
tion of a Government in which her Majesty would have
confidence was of much greater importance than the
opinions of any individual on the corn-laws." And so,
as in 1828, his Grace preferred surrendering his own
predilections, rather than allow any danger to exist that
" the Queen's Government could not be carried on."
Such characters as those of Wellington and Colling-
wood are thoroughly English. An avoidance of glitter
and show, an indomitable perseverance, an unhesitating
loyalty, and a constant reference of everything to thel
dictates of duty. Long may these qualities bo well
known among us. And that they may be so, let us not
fail to do all due honour to the great names of such as
Wellington.
(From the Daily News.)
The Duke of Wellington is dead! The conqueror
of
Napoleon the First is removed from the world, ju t as
Th®
Napoleon the Second is entering upon the 6
event is the closing one of the greatest cyicslceoeornyfe:events
The
that has yet been completed in modern b t
(pall of the " Great Duke" covers a
y the shadowy
past, and the
future may now develop itself undisturbed
Ipresence of the great soldier who. influenced so largely
the destinies of the generation just gone by.
Robert
It may be said of the Duke with more truth thant
(even of his great political friend, the late Sir
!Peel, that he has been fortunate in
veliving j so lonmentsg thon
att
'the world had time to merge any ad e udg
some features of his political career in
his life, neunanimons
verdict upon the wonderful grandeur of s taken as
a whole. As his uncompromising political op-
ponents on many occasions, we can now well
afford to award him the full measure of praise
for those qualities of his mind and spirit—and

those features of his public conduct—which command las-Fj
;pee,. If by birth, education, conviction, he was a Tore.
:he was at least honest, high-minded, and open to frsil
argument in he discussion of his principles. Ho mode •11
Seined his opinions as Lo would have defended a foe-
tress, precisely as long as they were tenable—and tie
4 longer. He gave up the defence of his position in title-
- to make an honourable retreat; and while his friend,
could not with justice complain, his enemies were coo :
'strained to respect him.
..,, The Dnke of Wellington's life affords one of the: - '
few specimens in history—a career thoroughly dew-
,• loped;—a thread spun out to its full and natural lengti-. •
Many great and original man have been cut off in thei.
activity—thwarted by extraordinary obstacles—and so
compelled, in divers ways, to leave imperfect images of
themselves in their deeds and in their personal memoir'.
ii Wellington leaves a full-length portrait of himself il
human history. He had his due and his entire influence,el
;in his generatioa, at every stage of his life. Hel
?sistered early in the course for which /calurf
A peculiarly intended him; had, in due time, his task.-:'7,i
Aout upon him; achieved everything that lie untie,: 'a
:stook, and was in the best sense a successful mat • ''':
.1
: His reputation to the last, was the paramount reputa-1
'''. tion of his day. When he fought a battle, he generally
', won it, and always made a successful campaign; whet,
el 4 he spoke in the House of Lorris, his words were re-
ceived and repeated throughout the country with a pe-,
is culiar interest and authority such as attached to few!
iother men. As " the Dike" he was in himself an in-1
: stitution; and to praise him on all duo occasions, west
, one of the natural ways in which many men showed
their patriotism. •
It has been very commonly—perhaps too invidiously
—dwelt on, that ho was
pre-eminently a great soldier.
For the distinctness and uniqueness with which his per-
sonality sonality stamped itself on all he said and did, shosq
clearly enough his originality of character. When
'
ihe spoke or wrote as well as when he actedi
he stamped his image on the work as on a 0
medal. As General Conqueror Conservative —I,
dealing
heu o— or " Noble Lord " addressing the Peers,
ner.
whichi s .
woreS that,
the
1
eidveenaswolean,
equally made a distinct, personal impression, sui ge•
party, ho gave
them new force from approbation]
People concluded that he tiavdin them his
more it;
'them than they had been able to withpothlietimcgal nideens!
found something morasia
!force of moral integrity about him wchoiveehr. extendredwitself
to everythingihe did, and invested smaller thingse well
as great ones with veneration. The English peopleas w 4-
not so ready as other nations to worshipa soldier ar
as a great military commander. But everything merely
Wellington showed that the predominant feeling about
military career was that of the duty which
hvva in
.his
performed by the work in progress. The Englishetteingi
mired and respected him for that element, more ad
than for his commander's qualities. They felt that heeven,
than
was a great man among them, he had a man's-
right to be so; and that it was because he was a great
man, that he was a great soldier.
He had—combined in himself—in a singular degree,
the national qualities on which the English people pride
themselves—clear practical honesty of intellect, patience 1
,probity, fidelity of character. He had the qualitiesl
(which make Englishmen, not perhaps more personally
:attractive at first sight, but which make them a histo-
rical people, and will keep their name alive in the latest
annals of the world. He had the qualities which found
colonies—establish commerce—which make great towns,
and roads, and canals—which make men suffer hardships
submit to labour, and which make them " pay." You
could calculate him like a planet. The compare-
tltively trivial circumstance which we all felt to
he so characteristic of him—we mean his formal
punctuality in answering all manner of notes, and
which people smiled at as the characteristic ways of
some old and loved friend—was itself a significant
symbol of his whole life. He always did what ought
to be done, because it was his business. He destroyed
an army or took a town with the same punctuality with
Iwhich ho arrived at a dinner party, and marched into al
, teritory as he would have done into the Horse Guards.
What else was he there for?—you may fancy to be his'
first question. It has been admitted that war was
never conducted so purely, so decently, with so much
regard to the considerations of the social rectitude of
civilization, as under him. Who has done such work,
and come away with hands so clean? What soldier
could you ever be so safe in expecting to achieve the
" came, saw, and conquered"—with the most perfect
.certainty? The work to be done was with him the
primary consideration, for the sake of duty and
England; and he expected rigid subordination in others,
to him, as he acted with rigid subordination to principles)
. himself. He had less of the showy and graceful quell-,
ties, which attach romantic interest to great names, than
most famous men. But all work in the main is an earnest
and grave thing; and fighting, the most earnest and
grave species of work. His war bulletins do not read
as if they had been written by a novelist; but one may
be sure that they are true; and there is no baseness to
record. He having done the work—others might let off
the fireworks.

He was thus, from his position, his successes, his
wealth, and his character, essentially a moral force in
this country; and we see accordingly, that after a long
peace had removed great prospect of his being again
employed in war, the national interest in him, far from
abating, was ever on the increase. He had not the
dubious fame, the clouded glory, of to many fine
soldiers. In the days of Radetzkys and Haynaus, no
shudder occurred at the mention of the name of Wel-

lington! No priest shrank from associating it with
prayer—no woman from mentioning it with honour.
For we know that what he had to do had been done in
ill sincerity, and in a cause which he had at heart fully
as much as a man as a soldier. His terrible battles wert
remembered as necessary, if awful, events—and the crop
of fame he reaped from his battle-fields was as stainless
as the waving grain that now grows on the plains of
[Waterloo. _ _

He was a Conservative by instinct and habit, rathtr
than theoretically or speculatively a Conservative poli-
tician. Theorising regarding mankind was not his forte.
Ile was not a thinker proper, so much as a man of ac-
tion, and he acted in politics, from the instinct of
' holding fast by the good,"—(or what ho believed good)
—but with regard to political changes, he disliked them
rather instinctively as changes, than from insight into .
their ultimate tendencies and significance. However,
military life had early brought him into contact with
fact, and hence when changes became inevitable, no man
amore decisively conceded to them. His invaluable intel•
ilectual sincerity made him see, what dances could not •
'see, and knaves would not see, to have become part and
parcel of the life of England. Hence, he knew when to
concede—and conceded, when the time was right and
the concession honourable. He bowed to Catholic'.
Emancipation, and Reform, and Free Trade; and it
would, indeed, be a pity, and something worse, to
confound this great man, with such " Tories"—as
the knot of shuSers and dullards, impostors and quacks,
who are now allowed to play at governing the country.
The comparison between the Duke and the great Sir
Robert holds with remarkable force when we consider
the nature of the political creed with which each entered
upon public life, and the mental power which each pos
sessed to correct and modify his creed. Each of these
remarkable men had the faculty of reading the great
book of the present, and marking accurately where new
phases of moral and political life were on the point of
appearing. Each recognised the fact that the world is
not a dull mechanism to be explained by some few rigid
formula, and to be kept eternally dependent upon the
revolution of the same wheels. Each recognised a prin-
cipal of growth in the world, a necessity for develop-
ment. Each was prepared to adapt himself to the change,
which the fulness of life in the world determined and
brought forth. Sir Robert probably, and the Duke
certainly, would have preferred the old Tory adjust-
ment. Both would very possibly have been content
.at one time to wind up the old machine, and provide
for its easy working, by a little oiling of the parts. Both,
I. however, saw clearly when the old mechanism must
give place to a new form of life. Neither of them was
• mad enough to suppose that an oak planted in a porce-
lain vase would be less certain to develope itself if y
• changed the porcelain for cast iron. It was the posses-
"- you
sion by the two of this quality of mind in c
extensive reforms recently carried out in this o y
common
which enabled them to be powerful agents in then"
.
Nurtured in the aristocratical faith, both were enabled to
country.'
command the sympathies of the aristocracy—a sympathy
whichcapabilities, the other
bwyh itchhe the
greatone
fboyr c he i
ofs h
his
intellectual
character, converted into a
The oligarchy kicking ob.
mtsourceienraete
Ipyout of
andli e
ignorantlypracticalopp ospeodw er
them,.
.against the
before the oppositio,n
Duke explained to
which they, in •
resisted. their dull ' wall, as long as the
crouched penitently
) When Sir Robert and the
them the nature of that power
ignorance of its magnitude, bad

It is the completeness and steadiness of Wellington's.
character which marks him as one of the true great
characters of his age. His rival, Napoleon, v's! Pne e-
Ipetually losing his balance. Bonaparte allowed
hsisuper-
lpieetfuialall per-
stition. During the , later years of his life Le„ulses, if
hyigmivseinlfgawndayhis star to degenerate into
was
his plans—however wtoildthlye
laotseg firtoßm its
duct during the retreat from Moscow,n__a..
1 He issued
,of a spoiled child than of a great
age_ 6r
orders impossible toi i'overwhelmingewailedh i his fate
emonoseteiPveridss—i°flled7His con-
': an tffiteheerisr
withill-s ucce
bitters s, —r beetphreee: seel:lest: d 'thin:•if-need
forgot also, what
greatest genius, in
Wellington never forgo.tai that
power ufpaostnerwahnicdhf
aistteracatas
;proportionbecomesenalasrtghoedra,
own immediate opera-
materials stretch away_ _

---, --------
Um.
It
He accepted it, and by .
stifled the revolution—and
Wellington's mission was Napoleon's
accepted the mission and
mission to carry out the revolution.
miscalculation of his resources
ruined himself. It was
to oppose the revolution. Ho also
performed it as far as the
the age would permit him. When ho found that
pirit of .
e could achieve no more, he bowed to circumstances.
No man ever knew so well the extreme capabilities of
the forces which he had to manage. No man ever haul
Bed those forces with more consummate skill.
The Duke of Wellington has passed away, and at a
ime when regret for his loss will be mingled with some '
Anxiety. For though the Duke had passed that time of
life when any very active military service could be ex..-
pected from him, he was yet known •to Possess—almost
in its original clearness and power—that strong Common
Isense—that sagacious prudence and ability for separating
essentials from non-essentials which become invaluable
1
at times of danger, emergency, or confusion. Calm, clear,
self-reliant, and full of experience, his mind was of an
Jrder that secured the confidence of those with whom he
acted, and on each occasion when of late years this
country has been told that danger surrounded her—the
nation always turned with confidence towards " F. M.
The Duke," as one whose judgment in any hour of
paril was sure to be equal to the occasion, and whose
ripe military genius would successfully direct those
P younger and more active Englishmen ever ready to sus
tail: the weight of any personal conflict. To secure this
confidence his whole career had tended, and it was na-

digital"
7,`ural that England should rest with thorough confidence
upon tho soldier who had driven the best armies of
France before him in th,-. Peninsula, and had finally
roverthrown Napoleon at Waterloo.
I The knell that tolls for this great man's death
I 1 tolls also the death of a remarkable period of history.
lie was one great spirit in this period, and
he leaves us to a future in which we may want such
men as he. He leaves us to the working out of princi-
ples which he once vainly sough to oppose, but which
he had the wisdom afterwards to recognise. He leaves
'us to the development cf serious problems, the solutions
of which have been preparing during his eventful life.
We shall have our sulutions of these problems opposed
by our adversaries. Would that they were all like him—
grave, courteous, earnest, honest.

I- His death will occasion a great chasm in that world
Ito which public admiration is directed. With the ex-
ception of the Sovereign, no one has for years enjoyed so
great a share of the national respect. It is impossible
!not to be in some measure affected by the grief which
will take so firm a hold on the minds of thousands. ilia
brothers in arms will have lost the great lodestone
which has enchained their admiration for years, His
apolitical friends and enemies will each mourn the de-
parture of one who has commanded the irrepressible
Ideference of both. The universal public will meurn one
,who has carried the military glory of England to a
height which has seldom been equalled, never exceeded.
,Peace to his ashes. _ _

kl. - --
-(From the Morning Advertiser,)
The whole country will participate in the profound
:,, regret with which we have this day to announce the
melancholy death of the Duke of Wellington. His
Grace expired yesterday at half-past three o'clock, at
Walmer Castle.
Though the death of the illustrious Duke, considering
-his very advanced age, ought not to excite surprise, the
public mind will be startled at the announcement, inas-
much as no previous intimation of his illness had been
given. Until within the last few days, the public jour-
aals contained the usual brief paragraphs respecting his
movements, and nothing had transpired to indicate that
he was comp laining, even in the slightest degree, of in-
disposition. For the particulars of the circumstances
ander which his Grace closed his long and eventful
earthly career, we refer to another part of our paper.
A great man has fallen in the person of the Duke.
As a general, his reputation is too well established, and
coo wide spread, to require that we should say a word
Jn the subject. His name, as the most successful mili-
tary genius of the age, will be transmitted to the re-
••
As a general, he has seldom been surpassed in any age or
country.
de brilliancy.
of
Wellington
nt motest posterity. As " the hero of a hundred fights,"
ofthtera Dukenscen
the name of Wellington can never perish so long as the
page of history exists. Nor was it only as compared
enjoyed
jt
ohyhe ids
a contemporaries,
military
rep ut
• attihonat
But it was not in the field alone that the illustrious
deceased played a prominent part, end acquired a repu-
tation which has seldom fallen to the lot of man. On
the political stage also he has, for more than a quarter
)f a century, been one of the most influential and emi-
nent men of his day. Though to the character of a
statesman, in the highest acceptation of the term, he
tied no pretensions, yet he possessed a masculine under-
standing, and a fund of solid practical information, which
rendered him a valuable member of the upper branch of
the Legislature. Fur a time he filled the office of Prime
Minister, and though never displaying any brilliancy in
his conceptions, nor
ti° eloquence of a lofty order in the
exposition of his views,acquitted himself in that im-
portant office in a manner far exceeding the expecta-
tions of his warmest and most
There was one feature in the sanguine friends.
Noble Duke which command
There
character of the
though a Conservative, as the ter
m universal admiration.
under-
stood, he could never bo regarded as
ais generally
was thoroughly honest, though doubtlessP party man. He
often
in his conduct. He never adopted a particularf mistaken
simply because it was proposed and followed by the
party
course,
with whom he usually acted. So far from that h
opreferred
on various occasions to sacrifice his party to hisco
' scientious convictions of what was most conducive to tEe-
"oast interests of the country, and the stability of the
Throne. Two memorable instances of this will occur to
the mind of the reader. The bold and fearless manner
"in which he gave practical effect to his altered views on
the question of Catholic emancipation, though thereby
incurring much odium from the Tory party, and even
severing for ever some long-existing and warmly che-
rished personal friendships, constituted an instance of
self-sacrifice to his convictions of what was right, which
will not be forgotten by the present generation, nor fail
to be remembered with admiration by generations to
come. The same may be predicated of the course which
the Noble Duke adopted in reference to the corn-laws.
His opinions on that great and vital question changed
contemporaneously with those of Sir Robert Peel, whom
he has so soon followed to the grave, and with that dis-
tinguished statesman he had the moral courage to avow
and act on the change, altogether irrespective of
personal consequences. He zealously and ably
supported, in the House of Lords, the measure
for the repeal of the corn-laws. We well re-
meember hearing him address the Peers in favour of
the second reading of the Bill between four and five
o'clock in the morning; and never did he speak with
greater energy, or with a seemingly deeper sense of the
importance of the question, than he did on that memor-
able occasion. His appeal to their Lordships was power-
• ful, as well as earnest, not to jeopardise their own legis-
lative position by rejecting a measure which the inter-
ests of justice, and considerations of expediency, alike
called upon them to sanction.
And here let us do the memory of the illustrious de-
ceased an act of justice, which, so far as we know, was
• never rendered to him during his life. We say advisedly,

;that but for the support which the free trade measures
of Sir Robert Peel received from the Duke of Wellington,
those measures would not have been carried. That the
corn-laws would stoner or later have been repealed,
even bad Sir Robert Peel never proposed the extinc-
tion of the bread monopoly, no reflecting person will
deny ; but that the duties on the people's food would
not have been remitted, when Sir Robert Peel in-
troduced his measure with that view in 1846, had
it not been for the zealous support of the Duke
of Wellington, is a point about which there
can be no doubt. As it was, the measure was only car-
ried by a small majority. Had the Duke been neutral,
it would not have been carried at all. Had he been ad-
verse, the second reading would have been rejected by a
large majority. It is due, therefore, to the memory of
the illustrious man who has just been snatched away
from an admiring country, that the fact should be
known—that but for him Sir Robert Peel would have
failed in his efforts to carry his free-trade measures.
In thus rapidly glancing at the political career, as well
as the military character of him whose loss the country
has been so suddenly and unexpectedly called to deplore,
it would be an unpardonable oversight were we to omit
a reference to the exalted sense of duty by which be
was invariably inspired with regard to everything con-
nected with the public service. There was no man in
the branch of the Legislature of which he was so bright
than the Duke. Ile was uniformly among
an ornament who was more regular in his attendance
the first of
the Peers to take his seat, and among the
last to leave the House. Nor was any one
in the Upper Hous©
more closely and conti-
nuously attentive to what was said, or more
watchful with regard to what was done. He
invariably acted from a sines of duty.
Legis-
lature, he was laid under obligations which,
Ile felt that,
• being a member of the hereditary branch of the Legie-
iownesr e imperative,and
matters
whichgive hisoa mbest mind,
to his
thoseown
the
the die
and he was accordingly scrupulously faithful in
the
charge of his Parliamentary duties.
In respectthi be held
illustrious deceased may, with great propriety'
legislators, whether they
up as a model to all our present
of Parliament.
belong to the Upper or Lower House
shouldproceed any
But it is not necessary that we se_
p the
the character of Noble
beforeattention tkolouse
further in the effort to
sketch as better known, and none
Duke. No man's character w
A by his country. Ile was held
more highly
universalappreciatee, esteem.
His name was never
in profound and
uot respect. His presence in
mentioned but with the
laces evoked manifestations of
the streets or publivictoPthe
meet
popular man of his
public regard.
kiespoke of his Grace with other feelings
age. No one ever
than those of the
greatest respect. He was without a
•
personal And
y now that the grave is about to
close for ever overenere- his earthly remains his memory will
with an amount of reverence which has
be cherished
seldom been displayed on the departure of distinguished
men from the scenes of earth to that invisible world into
vehic e
h all shall Boone r or later be ushered.

NEW CRYSTAL PALACE COMPANY.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES.

Sir,—l am requested by the directors of the Crystal
Palace Company to beg that you will be so good as to
correct a misstatement that appears in your article
upon the Crystal Palace this morning, and which is
calculated to leave an erroneous impression on the minds
of the shareholders of the Crystal Palace Company.
The article in question states that the plans of the di-
rectors " already contemplate an expenditure probably
not much under 1,000,0001, sterling."
So far from this being the case, I am authorised to
state that all the estimates of the company are com-
pleted, that all the larger contracts (with one exception)
are let, and that the whole of the works will be finished
within the subscribed capital of 500,0001.
Begging you to be so good as to insert this correction
of an involuntary errcr, I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
G. GROVE, Secretary.
3, Adelaide-place, London-bridge, Sept. 14.

—From the commencement]
will be quite a new
CHAMBER BUSINESS OF THE COURT or CHANCE"'
re:-ricementj of Dfichoraet
business will transactedeat the
ImofasChancery. This
equity proceedings. By the
26th section of the new uA:cet,mabolishing.the office of Masters
(15th and 16th Victoria, cap. SO), it is provided that the
'business to be disposed of by the Blaster of the Rolls and
Tice•Chancellors respectively, while sitting at chambers,
shall consist of such of the following matters as the Judge
shall from time to time think may be more conveniently
disposed of in chambers than in open court, viz., applies.
tions for time to plead, answer, or demur; for leave to
,amend bills or claims; for enlarging publication, and also
applications for the production of documents ; applications
' • relating to the conduct of suits or matters ; applications as to
the guardianship and maintenance of infants ; matters con.
property, and such other
me to time see fit,
matters
wai
eachtsh t he
sTcahn ajgue
dingeennit
aoyf, f
rom
ti
or as may from time to time be directed by any general order
of the Lord Chancellor.
PowER OF LETTERS.—Which three letters in the
English alphabet are the most forcible? NR G (energy).
•. Which two are the most hateful? N V (envy). Which two
contain the least? M T
(empty), Which four the most
corpulent? 0 B C T (obesity). Which two the most faded?
D (decay). Which four have a title of honour?
LWhich three are most wearisome?
Which five are a popular doctrine?
Xxs
PLIT ND E CN(
(ennui).
nx
(uc
pe (excellency).
dc yi e).
n y
Which three are a mournful
poem? LEG (elegy).