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

and by the Hon. WILLIAM WELLESLEY, his Train-bearer,

in a Mourning Coach.
The Marquis of 24.LISBURY, and the
Marquis of TWEEDDALE, K.T.,
Supporters to the Chief Mourner, in a Mourning Coach,

Assistants to the Chief Mourner.
Relations and Fiiends of the Deceased.

The late Duke's Horse led by the Groom to the Deceased,

Private Carriages of the Deceased, and of the
Chief Mourner.
Band of the Royal Marines—Woolwich Division.

Officers and Men from every regiment in the Service,
consisting of one Captain, a Subaltern, a Sergeant, a
Corporal, and five Abu from every Regiment.
Band of her Majesty's 93d Highlanders.
Carriages of the Queen and the Royal Family.
Troops closed the Procession.

The atmosphere was very clouded and overcast when the
procession began to move, and a few minutes afterwards
there were strong indications of rain. Indeed, as the
Rifles passed Carlton House, a very smart shower came on,
and until the head of the procession got clear of the Park,
it seemed more than probable that the weather of the
morning was to be renewed. But before the head of the
procession reached almost Apsley House, the heavy and
ominous clouds which had previously prevailed rolled off,
and the sun burst forth with autumnal splendour. As
each regiment or body of troops filed off in the appointed
order, its band led the way, playing the " Dead March"
or other appropriate pieces, accompanied at intervals by
the roll of the muffled drums. The men, of course, car
ried their arms reversed, which, combined with the
mournful music and the slow funeral pace at which they
marched, had a singularly imposing effect. To the
troops the mourning coaches and carriages, properly
marshalled, succeeded; and the length of procession
may be imagined when we state that though the
Rifles led the way at eight o'clock, it was 25
minutes past nine before the Car started, and half
an hour later before the extreme rear was in motion. Let
the reader who did not witness the spectacle endeavour to
pietttre in imagination the stately pomp of the military
pageant passing in long column along the spacious avenue
or the Mall, and then winding up Constitution-hill, while
thousands upon thousands of spectators, in respectful si-
lence, witness its progress. Let him fancy the departure
of carriages and mourning coaches, broken at intervals by
3farshalmen, messengers of the College of Arms, trum-
peters, Pursuivants, and heraldic standard-bearers. The
strains of music, martial yet solemn in its character, rise,
die away, and are taken up again at intervals, and at length
the moment has arrived for the Funeral Car to move for-
ward. On its way towards the east end of the Mall many
Members of Parliament and Peers who had assembled at
that point uncovered as it passed. When it had arrived
opposite the Duke of York's Column, the road, being in a
soft and imperfect state, the wheels on one side became
imbedded in mud, and it was found requisite to call in the
assistance of a large body of police' before they could be
extricated. In consequence of this little accident fears
were entertained that the progress of the ponderous vehicle
might at other points be seriously interrupted. Such,.
however, was fortunately not the case, and though stop-
pages constantly took place, they were all caused by the
rapid pace of the horses as compared with the progress of
the rest of the procession.

THE LINE OF ROUTE.
We now proceed to give some idea, not of the pageant
itself, for its length precluded the possibility of seeing more
than detached portions of it at a time, but rather of the
public reception which it experienced on its way, and of
the unexampled spectacle which the streets• of this metro-
polis exhibited throughout the day. Words are, we feel,
completely powerless to convey anything like a just idea of
a demonstration so marvellous. On no occasion in modern
times has such a concourse of people been gathered to-
gether, and never probably has the sublimity which is ex-
pressed by the presence of the masses been so transcendently
displayed. The progress, too, of the procession imparted
to it in this respect an almost dramatic unity and com-
pleteness, for, from the regions of palaces and great man-
sions, and from the assemblages of the wealthy, the titled,
and the great, it passed, first, among great gatherings of
the middle classes, then through thoroughfares swarming
with myriads of the people, and finally closed its course at
the lofty threshold of the metropolitan Cathedral, the centre
of London, now engaged by a new tie to the affections of
the country, by having deposited under its dome the ashes
of England's greatest son. The procession moved at
a slow pace along the Birdcage-walk, which was lined
on either side by detachments of the Life Guards. The
Green-park was thronged with spectators, and it was ob-
served that even the windows of ,Buckingham Palace were
thickly crowded. Apsley-house, of course, wore a mourn-
ful aspect, the iron shutters being closed, and the open win-
dows covered with white blinds. The houses also beyond
the late Duke's princely mansion were devoid of spectators,
and the balustrades were lined with' mourning furniture.
No interruption whatever took place to the progress of the
procession ; and, it is gratifying to state, that while the
assembled multitude appeared perfectly alive to the diffi-
cult duties of the police, the force itself exhibited a praise-
worthy disposition to render every facility to enable
the public to witness the mournful pageant. In return
for this assistance, the public fell into the rules and
regulations of the police without murmur or objection,
and the duties of the officers stationed at many of the bar-
riers and crossings were, comparatively speaking, light and
easy. It is needless almost to add, that, as the Car passed
along the route, the people showed their respect for the
venerable deceased by standing uncovered. The first re-
markable assemblage of spectators that received the pro-
cession on its course, after leaving the area of the parade,
was collected on the long terraced balconies of Carlton
gardens, and on the wide steps ascending to the Duke of
York's Column. At the latter point an immense concourse
had gathered, amounting to many thousands. Few had
availed themselves of the space within the railings of the
park on either side of the Mall ; but in the grounds behind
Marlborough-house many spectators had taken up their
position, and a gallery had been erected in the gardens of
Stafford-house, which was occupied by the Sutherland
family' and a large circle of friends. When the Car
arrived in front of Buckingham Palace if halted for a short
time, giving her Majesty and the Royal family, who were
in the balcony, above the main entrance, a good oppor-
tunity of seeing it. The windows and parapets of the grand
façade were all occupied, but the view into the courtyard
was left open, and this perspective of the Royal edifice
rendered it one of the most picturesque and effective coups
Omit in the progress of the procession. Passing up Consti-
tution-hill, as the Car approached Grosvenor-gate, the
numbers assembled within the Park greatly increased, and
nearly all the trees were filled with spectators. At the
gate itself a halt was made, and the eye naturally turned,
in the first place, towards Apsley-house, which was com-
pletely closed, and had a strange, tenantless, deserted look
in the midst of the vast multitudes assembled all around
it. The top of Grosvenor-place was filled, as far as a
sight of the procession could be obtained, with a vast
sea of human faces, upturned and anxiously gazing at the
pageant which swept along. Every window was filled,
the housetops also swarmed with people, and the portico
and roof of St. George's Hospital especially were crowned
with human beings. Another striking point of view was
formed by the arches leading into Hyde-park, the architec-
ture of which acquired a new expression from the manner

in which the people had grouped themselves within,
above, and around it. Like Apsley-house, Baron Roths-
child's mansion and that of Miss Burdett Coutts were kept
strictly closed ; but at all the other great houses along the
west end of PiceAdilly the windows and balconies were
completely occupied by the families who inhabit them and
their friends, while the pavement on either side of the
way was filled to the kerbstone with people. The long

mereeu in front of Devonahire-hcruse was fitted up with
spacious galleries, which were all crowded. The Coventry
Club appeared for the day to be in possession of the ladies,
who occupied its handsomely draperied balconies. And
now, as the procession approached the head of St. James's-
street, and passed across the entrances of streets diverg-
ing on both hands from the route which it was taking,
a new feature of the most remarkable kind began to de-
velope itself. The entrances of those side streets were
completely built up with living masses of men and
women, forming, to all appearance, a mound or ram-
part of heads, which were all duly and respectfully
uncovered as the stately Funeral Car swept by. The win-
dows, too; as far as the eye could reach, had people thrust
from them eagerly, gazing, and the housetops, of course,
had their adventurous crowds of occupants. It almost
seemed as if the whole world had assembled to witness the
ceremonial, for the people were everywhere—built into
the walls, swarming in the streets, and clustered like hives
on every projection and parapet. When St. James's-street
was reached, the double view first, eastwards, along Picca-
dilly, and then down towards the palace, was singularly
impressive. There must have been 30,000 people within
range of sight at this point, and the orderly and respectful
behaviour of even the humblest among them, crowded and
hemmed in as they were, cannot be too highly praised.
The entire breadth of Piccadilly was closed in with an
embankment of men and women, numbers of waggons,
carts, coaches, and omnibuses having been placed in
the roadway to give their occupants a more com-
manding view. The line of procession now led
along the region of clubs, the fionts of ;which were for the
moat part fitted up with balconies draped in Mick, and
there, or within the shelter of wide plate-glass windows,
sat immense numbers of ladies provided with places by the
courtesy and gallantry of the members. Crockford's and
the Conservative Club were the two buildings which
seemed
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