The Sun.
London, England, 1852-11-19 00:00:00

TTIE SUN, LONDON ritIOA Y EVENING, NOVEMBER 19, 1852.

handsome architectural prepOrtions never looked more strik-
ing or beauttfai klitta when thus animated and relieved
by 'tag; ersemblages of well-dressed people. The Ox-
ford and Cambridge Club, the Array and Navy, the
Carlton, the Reform, the Travellers', and the Athenaeum,
all swarmed with occupants, their balconies being hung
with black, and hosts of ladies appearing in the best seats.
Perhaps along the whole route there Wag no single street
which presented more objects Of attraction, and greater
facilities for observation tO foot passengers, than Pall-mall;
and yet, oddly enough, its pavements were less encum-
bered the.n anywhere else, and the people who were on
them moved along without interruption. At Waterloo-
place, however, a very different aspect in this respect
was presented ; and the view up Regent-street, along
towards Cockspur-street, and on the right-hand side,
in the direction of the Duke of York's Column, was
really astounding. In addition, however, to the num-
ber of people within one's glance at this point,
there was something peculiarly touching in the muster of
old officers at the Senior United, many of whom looked
with unusual earnestness at the great Car, as, with its illus-
trious burden, to the roll of drums and the fitful strains of
martial music, it rolled upon its way. The Haymarket
and Trafalgar-square were, like Waterloo-place, great
centres of attraction. At the latter point there could not
have been much less than 40,000 people assembled ; and
the National Gallery, the roof of which was covered with
spectators, borrowed from the scene a grace and animation
which it never knew before. At Charing-cross, as along
the entire route, nothing could be more remarkable than
the decorous and orderly conduct of the multitude,
who preserved an imposing and expressive silence as
the Car went by. The humblest man bared his head in
the same reverential manner as his betters, and the only
cry that was heard was, now and then, " Off hats !',

When the precession reached Charing-cross, a compact
body of Chelsea pensioners, most of whom wore a couple of
medals on their breast, joinedinthe procession, and certainly
they formed an interesting portion of the ceremonial, being
ever and anon much cheered by the populace. The veterans
who had served under the late Duke also attracted great
attention, and it was observed throughout the entire route
that nothing could have surpassed the bearing and beha-
viour of the numerous troops who made up the bulk of the
pageant.
Along the Strand and the streets adjoining it the mul-
titudes thickened, both on the pavement and in the houses,
and appeared, if possible, to grow denser. The first part
of the procession was remarkable from the well-filled bal-
conies of private mansions and assemblages of a well-
dressed commonalty. To that succeeded the display of the
clubs. From Charing-cross a new phase in the character
of the funeral pageant and its reception became apparent.
The demonstrations of respect became parochial, and the
churches formed the great centres for spectators. St.
Martin's-in-the-Plaids, St. Mary-le-Strand,, St. Clement
Danes, and St. Dunstan's were yesterday honoured with
larger congregations than had probably ever visited them
before. Thousands of people filled the spacious balconies
that surrounded them, and we trust that the funds which
the parish authorities have been enabled to realise may be
large enough to be substantially useful to the charities to
which they are to be applied. All the cross streets leading
out of the Strand presented in a still more 'striking man.
ner the appearances which we have described at earlier
points of the route. The shop windows had been turned
to account in a most marvellous way, and enclosed num-
bers of full-grown people, compressing themselves for the
occasion into the dimensions of charity-school children,
and looking perfectly placid and resigned under circum-
stances that would be ordinarily regarded as amounting to
the peine forte et dare. It is rather a singular fact that the
only attempt at a motto or inscription to the memory of
the Duke was that suspended over the entrance to Exeter-
hall—" Non sibs sed patrice." It was probably felt that
things of the kind in this country, where they are little
understood, are best avoided, and that the obsequies of a
great man were best celebrated by a great public demon-
stration of silent respect. At Temple-bar the awkward
operation of lowering the halberts and canopy of the Car
was performed with less difficulty than had been antici-
pated, and from that point to the Cathedral all that we
have said of the crowds assembled at earlier points in the
route may be repeated and enlarged as much as possible
without being overstrained.

So dangerous was Temple-bar considered to the public
safety that the foot pavements on the west side of it were
kept clear as a precautionary measure by the police ; and
except tie Countess of Jersey's party, who occupied the
room above the arch, there seemed no disposition on the
part of any one to approach it too nearly.
Arrived at Temple-bar, the procession was received by
the Lord Mayor of London, attended by the Recorder
and a deputation from the Aldermen, by the Sheriffs, and
by a deputation from the Common Council ; and he,
bearing the city sword, having taken up his position
behind the carriage of Prince Albert and that of the
Archbishop of Canterbury, the carriages containing the
deputation from the Common Council fell into the pro-
cession immediately behind the delegation from Oxford,
while the six carriages of the Sheriffs and Aldermen took
up a position before the carriage of the High Sheriff of the
County of Southampton, and that containing the Compa-
nions of the Bath, in the places indicated in the preceding
part of this ceremonial. Six battalions of infantry
formed two deep on each side of the street , from Temple-
bar to Ludgate-hill, while a similar number of the flank
companies of the Grenadier Guards were stationed in St.
Paul's Churchyard to receive the body with arms presented
and reversed.

The streets in the City were just as crowded as those in
the Strand, and the mournful cavalcade passed along
amidst impressive silence to the Cathedral gates.

ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.

St. Paul's Churchyard had been a scene of the utmost
bustle from the early part of the morning, the more be-
cause, from the fittings-up of the Cathedral not being com-
pletely finished in time, some, at least, of the doors were
not opened at the hour promised, and a crowd of people
provided with tickets were kept waiting in the churchyard.
Even later than nine o'clock, and when the Cathedral was
full, workmen were still engaged in knocking away tempo-
rary boardings and otherwise completing their work. It
had been considered necessary to exclude the public gene-
rally from the churchyard, and the street and pavement in
front of the houses round it ; and there is no doubt that,
if that had not been done, it would have been impossible to
admit the company to the Cathedral without great disorder.
Carriages came up in such hosts that one who accomplished
the last half mile in an hour, did perhaps as well as most
people.

There was probably no better place for obtaining a
favourable view of the procession than the front of the
Cathedral. Let the reader take his stand with us in the
gallery outside that edifice, just above the :western en-

trance, and let us say what we see. It is a gallery, or
balcony, which the passer-by may hardly observe, but it
springs into importance on such an occasion as this.

sweep
eskespuptild
ooe waiting
rnon
ea-
It is 10 o'clock in the morning, as we walk up the geo-
metrical staircase, and step out upon the balcony, to look
upon a scene already singular and exciting. A mart of
the
conscious
tsuhetieo
balustrades.
üßi
n groups,
enclosuren
guard
, commerce has become a garrison. St. Paul's is invested.
There
a
rsteoldu s
oe
fn
hsuos deneoaon,
u rtc Anneh,l
clear
their
at
armspel
I in view ; the sun is behind us, and will be for
s these two hours, and we can see everything as
distinctly as possible all the way to Farringdon-
. street. You see the roadway clear and empty, as you
might see it at 4 o'clock on a summer's morning, but there
is contrast enough on the.prment on either side of the
street. There people are jalmed as chime as human beings
can be, until the spot where Ludgate-hill is intersected by
Ave Maria and Creed-lan,es, beyond which the crowd may
not come. The houses seem bursting with people—every
window is full, and the roofs bristle with heads. Some of
the roofs have awnings put up, to protect those who stand i
upon the tiles or loads from the weather. .."E„,,rything
speaks of crowd—the street lamps are left lighted, either
because the lamplighters could not get at them to put them
out, or because they could not have lighted them again.
We can hear the hum of an innumerable multitude. They
are as quiet as such a multitude can well be, but every
now and then raise their voices to a shout when some
person is in distress, or from any cause must be removed,
or when an unfortunate dog rushes along, bewildered
and
alarmed.
There is a stir among the soldiers ; they are getting into
order. The Life Guards ride into the churchyard from
9 d There is a slippery bit of
Dean s-yar . 'Lug at that gate-
one of the horses falls ; the rider has a
way, and narrow
escape,
but, though evidently much shaken, he is not ma-
terially hurt, and, like a soldier, he mounts again and
pro-
ceeds upon his duty. Later in the day another horse fell
there. advancing A host of infantry now approach, up Ludgate-
hillone file on each side of the street. The
hill in single file,
train seems interminable. They pass the church, and clear
off in an easterly direction.
It is now 11 o'clock. These files of infantry have ended,
and after an interval the general procession comes. It is
still military. Sometimes there is a succession of guns,
sometimes dense masses of the Guards. At intervals there
are the bands of various regim • ents• It is very striking,
these successive bands ; as one passes by the church,
and the music dies upon the ear, the notes of the
next band begin to be heard, taking up the wail.
Major-General his Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge,
who commands the troops employed, is riding about, and
giving the requisite directions. Now come the 83 Chelsea
pensioners, wearing their medals : it is a company that
seems to excite general interest ; the soldiers went past the
church,—the pensioners go in. Next, the "one soldier
from every regiment"—an interesting group. The proces-
sion now begins to be one of carriages and mourning
coaches ; and the time consumed in setting down their oc-
cupants at the doors makes this part of the proceeding
rather tedious. The Sheriffs' carriages approach, but they
are hardly in keeping with a funeral procession ; their gay
decorations require some signs of mourning about them on
such an occasion. The Speaker is there in his quaint State
carriage ; and the Lord Mayor, in that capacious vehicle of
his, which, after all, the citizens have seen in pro-
cession in November before. Now come three Royal

carriages, with those noble horses which it is a treat to see,
the third carriage brings Prince Albert. We cannot see him;
but the salute as he passes the troops proclaims his pre-
sence. We miss the foreign batons, but it is because they
are carried in closed mourning coaches. All eyes now
watch for the Funeral Car. It is drawn by 12 black horses,
three abreast, and covered with velvet, presenting such a
dark foreground that we can hardly see whether the Car is
drawn by horses or not. The Car is driven in at the
churchyard gates, and drawn up in front of the great
western door ; the relations of the Duke are set down at
the side entrance. After them follows that touching sight
—the horse led after the bier of its master. There still
remains a very interesting passage. Officers and men
from every regiment in the service march past. The
churchyard from the entrance up to the Car is cleared ;
the coffin is there before all eyes ; the Duke of Cambridge,
the commander, stands at the gate with his sword drawn
in his hand, and the men who represent the whole army
of England march slowly and sadly by. There has not
been a more striking or effective circumstance in the
proceedings of the day. The soldiers seemed to be
impressed with the situation. It is the final token
of reverence for their departed chief. It is rendered
in solemn silence. It closes the procession, with' the ex-
ception only that the carriages of the Sovereign here most
appropriately follow.
The Car arrived at the entrance to the Cathedral about
10 minutes after 12, and preparations for the removal of
the coffin were immediately made, but something was
wrong, or went wrong, and the consequence was a delay
of nearly an hour and a half before the funeral procession
down the nave could be formed. In the interval, and
while the undertakers' men used every exertion to facili-
tate the unloading of the Car, the entrance to the Cathe-
dral presented a singular and not uninteresting spectacle.
There were ski generals and field officers, the illustrious
companions blaring of the Duke, enduring as best they could
the force of the searching November wind which blew keenly
through the open doorway of the sacred edifice. The
distinguishel foreigners withdrew before it several times,
and the clergy who, in double lines extending along the
nave, waited for the service to begin, vainly sheltered their
faces in their robes. Garter and his colleagues stood it out
bravely, and, after many efforts, at length succeeded in
marshalling the procession. It was a fine and imposing
sight to see the ouster of old veterans at the entrance during
this detention—Sir William Napier sitting on a kettle-
drum—Sir Charles moving about with the activity of a
much younger than—Lord Harding() also vigorous, and full
of life ; but moat wonderful of all, the Marquis of Anglesey,
with bald, uncovered head, apparently unconscious of the
fact that age stands exposure to cold less successfully than
youth. The display of orders, stars, and ribands here was
quite overpowering.

The difficulty above referred to being surmounted, the
coffin was placed upon a small carriage, and in the next
moment it elided for ever from beneath the broad canpy of
heaven to be deposited under the dome of St. Paul's.

uniform of France, though " our old ally," Austria, was
absent ; again, the sable of Peers and Commons, the red
and purple gowns of the corporations, the black robes and
white and red hoods of the university deputations, and the
immense array of faces rising pile after pile, and diminish-
ing into mere specks in the distance, beneath the arches of
the upper galleries. At 11.35 the military bands outside
the western entrance struck up a dead march, which! they
played at intervals till the procession approached, and the
funeral bell tolled solemnly, blending with the strains of
the music in mournful unison. At 11.35, also, the 83
Chelsea pensioners, having black wands in their hands,
marched into the nave in two lines, and, wheeling round,
sat down on the seats beneath the row of officers. The
poor fellows seemed tired enough, and, with the steadi-
ness of old soldiers, who had seen too much of the world
to be interested in anything, they scarcely looked
at the splendid preparations around them. They were
followed by the men selected from every regiment in
the service which had taken part in the procession.
In quick succession followed, in groups, the various
bodies assisting at the ceremonial from the Horse Guards
to the cathedral. Officers of the army, of the navy, of
various foreign services—the great Minister of State, and
the judges, moved slowly onwards, filling up the nave with
a rich stream of colour on which the eye rested without
fatigue, while every accession added to the interest of the
scene. The procession entered in the order which had
been observed throughout. As each flag and guidon was
carried to the area of the place whereon the coffin was to
lie it was planted in due order by the bearer.
The Commons, nobly headed by the Speaker, moved to
their places ; among those present, in addition to those
already named, were Mr. Disraeli, Sir J. Pakington, Mr.
Beresford, Mr. Christopher, Mr. Walpole, and about 300
other hon. gentlemen.
Next came the Lords, preceded by the Lord Chancellor,
in state. Among them were the Earl of Derby, the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, the Earl of Malmesbury, the Earl of
Carlisle, the Duke of Argyll, Earl St. Germans, the Bishop
of Oxford, the Bishop of Winchester, Lord Melville, the
Bishop of London, Lord Broughton, the Duke of New-
castle, Lord Lyttleton, Lord Campbell, the Earl of Cardi-
gan, &c. The Ministers moved round and took their places
at the right hand side of the area in front of the Lords.
Mr. Disraeli was seated between Mr. Christopher and Mr.
Beresford. Then came the marshals and generals of Spain,
Russia, Prussia, Portugal, the Netherlands, and Hanover,
in their gorgeous uniforms, moving slowly onward towards
the area, amid the strains of sad music, till they formed in
two glittering column around the restingplace of the bier.
At a quarter past 12 the Bishop of London and the Dealt
of St. Paul's, heading the clergy and the choir, proceeded
slowly up the nave from the organ to the entrance to receive
the remains of the great Duke. Clothed in white, with
black bands and sashes, the procession thus headed, moved
in two streams of two and two through the dignified
and richly attired assemblage till they halted at the
door, where they drew up in columns four deep. A
considerable delay took place in removing the coffin
from the funeral car, which tended somewhat to
impair the effect of the solemn ceremonial. For
nearly an hour this untoward stoppage excited the anxiety
of the spectators, who could not understand the cause of it;
but at length there was a universal hush, and, as if moved
by one mind, the whole of the vast assemblage stood up in
respectful grief as the coffin which contained the remains
of the great Duke appeared in sight, preceded by the choir
with measured tread, as they chanted the beginning of the
burial service by Dr. Croft. When the coffin was borne
in the wind stirred the feathers of the Marshal's hat placed
upon the lid, and produced an indescribably sorrowful
effect, in giving an air of light and playful life to that
where all was dead. And thus, with the hoarse roar of
the multitude without as they saw their last of Arthur,
Duke of Wellington, with the grand and touching service
of our church sounding solemnly through the arched dome
and aisles of the noble church, with the glistening eye and
hushed breath of many a gallant as well as of many a
gentle soul in that vast multitude—with the bell tolling so-
lemnly the knell of the departed, taken up by the voice of
the distant cannon, amid the quiet waving of ban-
nerol and flag, surrounded by all the greatness of the
land—with all the pomp and glories of heraldic achieve-
ment, escocheon and device—his body was borne up St.
Paul's. At 1.40 the coffin was slid off the moveable car-
riage in which it had been conveyed up the nave to the
frame in the centre of the area under the dome, which, as
our readers have been informed, was placed almost directly
over the tomb of Nelson, which lies in the crypt below.
The marshal's hat and sword of the deceased were removed
from the coffin, and in their place a ducal coronet, on a
velvet cushion, was substituted.
The foreign Marshals and Generals stood at the head of
the coffin ; at the south side of it stood his Royal High-
ness Prince Albert, with his baton of Field-Marshal in his
hand, and attired in full uniform, standing a little in ad-
vance of a numerous staff of officers. At each side of the
coffin were British generals who had acted as pall-bearers.
After the psalm and anthem, the Dean read with great
solemnity and impressiveness the lesson, 1 Cor. xv., 20,
which was followed by the Nunc Dimitis, and a dirge,
with the following words set to music by Mr. Goss :
" And the King said to all the people that were with
him, Rend your clothes and gird you with sackcloth and
mourn. And the King himself followed the bier.
" And they buried him. And the King lifted up his
voice and wept at the grave, and all the people wept.
" And the King said unto his servants, Know ye not
that there is a Prince and a great man fallen this day in
Israel ?"

This was sung by the whole strength of the corps, as-
sisted by the organ and a numerous band of wind instru-
ments, the happy combination of which greatly increased the
effect of this talented production, and produced an impres-
sion on the minds of those present which, we venture to say,
will remain to their dying day. And now came the roll of
mulled drums, and the wailing notes of horn and cornet,
and the coffin slowly sank into the crypt amid the awful
strains of Handel's "Dead March." The ducal crown dis-
appeared with its gorgeous support, and in the centre of
the group of generals and nobles was left a dark chasm,
into which every eye glanced sadly down, and all knew,
indeed, that " a Prince and a great man had that day gone
from Israel." The remaining portion of the funeral service
wereP then performed. The congregation were requested
to join in the responses to the Lord's Prayer ; and the effect
of many thousand voices in deep emotion repeating the
words, after the full enunciation of the Dean, was in-
tensely affecting.

`=His body is buried in peace,
But his name liveth evermore."

from Handers funeral anthem, was then most effectively
performed by the choir. And then Garter King at Arms,
standing over the vault, proclaimed the titles and orders
of the deceased, " whom Heaven was pleased to take from
us :" Arthur Wellesley, he said, was the Most High,
Mighty, and Most Noble Prince, Duke of Wellington,
Marquis of Wellington, Marquis of Douro, Earl of Wel-
lington, in Somerset, Viscount Wellington, of Talavera,
Baron Douro, of Wellesley, Prince of Waterloo, in the
Netherlands, Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo, in Spain, Duke of
Brunoy, in France, Duke of Vittoria, Marquis of Torres
Vedras, Count of Vimiera, in Portugal, a Grandee of the
First Class in Spain, a Privy Councillor, Commander-in-
Chief of the British army, Colonel of the Grenadier
Guards, Colonel of the Rifle Brigade, a Field-Marshal
of Great Britain, a Marshal of Russia, a Marshal
of Austria, a Marshal of France, a Marshal of
pruois,ll a Marshal of Spain, a Marshal of Portugal, a
Marshal of the Netherlands, a Knight of the Garter, a
Knight of the Holy Ghost, a Knight of the Golden Fleece,
a Knight Grand Cross of the Bath, a Knight Grand Cross
of Hanover, a Knight of the Black Eagle, a Knight of the
Tower and Sword, a Knight of St. Fernando, a Knight of
William of the Low Countries, a Knight of Charles 111., a
Knight of the Sword of Sweden, a Knight of St. Andrew
of Russia, a Knight of the Annunciado of Sardinia, a
Knight of the Elephant of Denmark, a Knight of Maria
Theresa, a Knight of St. George of Russia, a Knight of
the Crown of Rue of Saxony, a Knight of Fidelity of Baden,
a Knight of Maximilian Joseph of Bavaria, a Knight of St.
Alexander Newsky of Russia, a Knight of St. nerrup..-
gilda of Spain, a Knight of the Red Eagle of Bradenburgh,
a Knight of St. Januarius, a Knight of the Golden Lion of
Hesse Cassel, a Knight of the Lion of Baden, a Knight of
Merit of Wurtemberg, the Lord High Constable of England,
the Constable of the Tower, the Constable of Dover Castle,
Warden of the Cinque Ports, Chancellor of the Cinque
Ports, Admiral of the Cinque Ports, Lord-Lieutenant of
Hampshire, Lord-Lieutenant of the Tower Hamlets,
Ranger of St. James's Park, Ranger of Hyde Park, Chan-
cellor of the University of Oxford, Commissioner of the
Royal Military College, Vice-President of the Scottish
Naval and Military Academy, the Master of the Trinity-
house, a Governor of King's College, a Doctor of Laws, &c.
Then the late Duke's controller having broken in pieces
his staff of office in the household handed it to Garter
King at Arms, who cast the fragments into the vault. The
choir and chorus sang the hymn, "Sleepers, awake !" and
the Bishop of London, standing by the side of the Lord
Chancellor, pronounced the blessing, which concluded the
ceremony.
Thus were the mortal remains of Arthur Duke of Wel-
lington committed to the tomb in the presence of the wisest,
the best, and the bravest of the country, whose annals he
had beyond all other men adorned. Borne to his last
resting-place amidst all the pomp and splendour which a
grateful and generous nation could bestow ; mourned by
a whole people with that sincerity which can only be
felt by those who have lost the dearest and nearest
of friends, the scene of yesterday was a fitting close to a
career of which the length, the glory, and fortune have
no parallel in the history of time.

THE RETURN. •
While the service was proceeding in the Cathedral, the
funeral car was driven off in the direction whence it came.
On the conclusion of the service, at a quarter before
three o'clock, Prince Albert left the Cathedral, and was
escorted home by a party of the Guards. The rest of the
assemblage then took their departure. The streets were
much crowded for a while, but the length of time that the
people had been out soon tended toressen the numbers.

tained a severe fracture of the skull. Remedies were at once
applied, but without avail, for the poor fellow continued
to sink, and died within half an hour of his admission.
Another accident, which alarmed a great many people,
but fortunately did no mischief excepting a few bruises
from the rushing of the mob, took place at Mr. Spooner's,
the corner of Southampton-street, when, owing to
some of the inmates holding on the rope of the
blind, the latter gave way with a dreadful crash.
A few minutes before the procession reached Charing-
cross, a curious incident took place. A Post-office van
was standing at the corner of Trafalgar-square, near
Morley's Hotel, waiting to convey letters to St. Martin's
le Grand, when a number of men jumped on the
top of it, and nearly upset it, and had not a num-
ber of the P division of police, under the direction
of Mr. Inspector Shaw, rendered assistance, there must
have been a great sacrifice of life. Fortunately, the van
was righted, but her Majesty's servants could not by any
possibility get out until after the procession passed. An-
other accident occurred in the City, as one of the City
mounted police, who were engaged in keeping the streets
clear in the vicinity of Doctors Commons, was going at a
quick pace through Great Distaff-lane, in order to get into
Upper Thames-street, for the purpose of preceding one of
the royal carriages, which was to approach the cathedral
by Bennett's-hill, abreast of the south entrance, his horse
slipped and fell. Distaff-lane was clear at the time of his
entering it, but a woman crossing from one side to the
other, the officer from a humane motive, pulled up short,
when, his horse falling, crushed his right leg between the
saddle and the kerb. He was immediately conveyed to
Bow-lane station, and a surgeon promptly attended, when
it was discovered that his leg was fractured close to the knee
joint. His face was also much cut and disfigured. A
woman was knocked down by the crowd and trampled upon
near the Old Bailey ; she was removed to St. Bartholomew's
Hospital, when it was found that one of her legs was
broken. Another woman was also taken into the same
establishment, with a severe cut in the head, which she
received by being thrown down in the crowd. Three or
four persons, in attempting to cross the Strand at Welling-
street, were also knocked down by the passing cabs and
omnibuses, but, owing to the activity of the police in stop-
ping the vehicles, none, it was understood, were seriously
injured.