The newspaper press in all parts of the Empire united in praising him. One of the most interesting eulogies published in the press was written by Sir William Russell to the editor of the Lyttelton Times, in which Mr. Seddon’s old opponent said,—
“At the moment of a great tragedy it is difficult to judge accurately of the character of the hero, difficult also to define a true perspective of the work on which he had been engaged while that work is still new, and much of it incomplete. It is about a quarter of a century since first I remember him sitting somewhere about the centre of the House of Representatives—aggressive, arrogant and resolute, caring little for the forms of the House, less for the opinions of those opposed to him—essentially a man, a man of the rough and ready type, a typical representative of a mining community, vigorous, alert, intelligent, but unrestrained, in marked contrast to his leader, Sir George Grey, calm, critical, controlled. And yet one reacted on the other. The old statesman acquired practical experience of the views of a new democracy; the young politician learned the art and craft of government.
“In our own Parliament he has been a New Zealand Bismarck—of indomitable will and endless fertility of resource—and he unquestionably deserves the epithet ‘Great!’ It may be objected that many of the measures he placed on the Statute Book were not of his own origination, but he had, at least, the wisdom to know what the people wanted, and the personal influence which persuaded an often unwilling Parliament, and the tactical ability to realise what he might insist upon.
“Many have asked, ‘Had Mr. Seddon enjoyed the benefit of a university education would he have been a greater man?’ I doubt it. Education polishes the exterior, but God alone creates the material out of which a man is fashioned. Many are dwarfed by fears of precedent, and the personality and inherent force of any but the strongest men may be contorted by the formalism of too much training. Possibly Mr. Seddon would have been less great had early discipline taught him to consider more carefully the conventionalities of the world. His genius had greater scope owing to an untrammelled brain.”
Many poems have been composed in his honour. The following three, all by New Zealanders, are amongst the best:—
Rest, Premier, rest:
The end of strife has come,
Thy strenuous life has reached its peaceful close:
Throughout the land is hushed its busy hum,
With slackened pulse the life within it flows:
What grief was this, that held a people dumb?
From each has passed a dear-loved, faithful friend,
And wet, blurred eyes are dim to see the end
To this our woe of woes;
Rest, Premier, rest.
