The Sun.
London, England, 1852-09-16 00:00:00

!Z-REFORD MUSICAL FESTIVAL,

ghlyettBl)Ar EVENING.—The concerts are held at the
Tne attendance this evening was cer-
thia ~Ilanre Promising than the one at the cathedral
:tiestiel3h_..4,...rrtn2:. There were between 300 and 400
"" The overture to Zouberflote commenced the
Was played well. Herr Formes sang an
Spohr's Faust with his usual vigour, and
. people a wonderful impression upon the Herefordshire
7414 4on this his first appearance. Mrs. Enderssohn
Gr7iss Williams gave Mendelssohn's pleasing duet,
to th ing," in capital style, but it was not suitable
e taste
Marn. 13f the audience, who scarcely noticed it.
Clara Novello then came forward, and made
$3! iMpresaion by her rendering of a cavatina
beL 'l"ni• The English Glee and Madrigal Union
ihiP',Pfortned Webbe's glee, " A generous friend-
has legitimate and unaffected style. Miss Wil-
41ave was encored in Land's pretty ballad, " The
iltlirra love." The march, chorus, and quartett ,
lilt it
pare' heroes," brilliantly performed, closed the f
th
The e concert.
'adjsecond act opened with Weber's Oberon over-
' capitally played, but the wind instruments were
kg ;Inn loud. Sir H. Bishop's glee, " Where art
calved of light," performed by the "Union," re-
' rnoit unanimous encore. The same cornpli-
lelnis bwas awarded Madame Clara Novelle and Mr.
4114.14., eeves, for their brilliant singing of the duet
l'ekth'enere core," from Doniz-tti's Roberto Deve-
krtor The madrigal, "The Lady Oriane, was badly
n,
tllo„—,ed by the chorus, who were huddled together
`osy s' the slightest arrangement as to the parts
tit Wa ere singing. Madame Clara Novello's singing
til;Qbi Lon giunge," was a splendid specimen at vo.
NNith lis°l. Mr. Sims Reeves sang " Coen 'e gentil,"
thenc"rtie, accompanied on the harp by Mr. Trust.
ehnnert concluded with Sir H. Bishop's quintett
'44:rrruq, " Home, there's a storm," sung by Mrs.
178nnn, Miss Williams, Mr. Hobbs, and Mr. H.
W:Y*
!ge-,b.Ntspar MonwzNa.—The cathedral this morn-
(11 lalbited a marked improvement in the attendance.
Spahr, Performance included Haydn's Creation
ioea sacred cantata, " God, Thou art great,"
fl'orhtlnd an alarm," by Sims Reeves, and a selection
s'qr,lleethoven'ii service in C. The performance of
Ah,'Peation was progressing most satisfactorily
ur notice was forwarded.
44 "aLeollection at the cathedral doors amounted to
decrase on the sum collected
Yn a -
1849 g of .551.,e
when it reached 2301. the first

_D 11-4: A. T 111

OF THE

DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

TUE DUKE'S LAST MOMENTS.
WALMEE, WEDNESDAY EVENING. —As the
slightest incident in connexion with the last moments
of this great man cannot fail to be received with deep
interest, we supply the following details:, the authen-
ticity of which may be fully relied upon :
It was on Monday morning that the Noble Duke
last tack open-air exercise by walking out in the
environs of the Castle, and not yesterday morning, as
was erroneously reported, before the facts connected
with the melancholy event were fully known. It is,
however. quite correct that, up to the morning of the
day of his death, his Grace's health continued to all
appearance in its usually satisfactory state, consider-
ing his advanced age. The Duke retired to rest on
Monday night quite well, and in his customary good
:Tirits. It is believed that he passed a comfortable
Light, and, at all events, he did not summon his at-
tondant to wait upon him. On Tuesday morning
his valet called him, as usual, between six and seven
o'clock; but his Grace did not rise to dress, and,
after the lapse of about an hour, the valet's at-
tention was aroused by a sound resembling faint
moanings issuing from his master's chamber. He
thereupon went into his Grace's room, when the
Duke, who had not left his bed, inquired if his apo-
thecary, Mr. Hulke, of Deal, lived near, and directed
that that gentleman should be sent for, as he (the
Duke) wished to see him. This was the first intima-
tion received by any member of the household that
his Grace felt indisposed. The intelligence was im-
mediately communicated to Lord and Lady Charles
Wellesley' who occupied adjacent apartments in the
Castle, and they at once proceeded to his Grace's
chamber, where they remained with him constantly
until he breathed his last. In the meantime a groom
had been dispatched for Mr. Hulke, who hurried to
the Castle without delay, and arrived at about half-
past eight or a quarter to nine. Mr. Hulke found
his Grace suffering from an epileptic fit of a
rather violent character, somewhat similar to the
attack which the Duke experienced several years
ago; and no serious apprehensions were at that
moment entertained as to his safety. Mr. Bulk;
therefore, left the Castle for the purpose of preparing
some medicines to administer to his Grace, in the hope
that they would afford him effectual relief; but,
during his absence, the Noble Duke grew worse, and
it was necessary to send for Dr. Macarthur, of
Walmer, his regular medical attendant. Mr. Hfulke
and his son (who also belongs to the medical profes-
sion) speedily returned, when an emetic was admi-
nistered to the noble patient, but uniortunately with-
out any good effect. The Duke's condition gradually
became more dangerous—he was seized by a second
convulsive fit of greater violence than the first, and
the alarm of his son and daughter-in-law, Lord and
Lady Charles Wellesley, painfully increased. At
this critical emergency, a messenger was dispatched
to the telegraph office at the Deal railway station
for the purpose of immediately summoning Dr.
Hume from London to his Grace's assistance. In

case Dr. Hume should be absent from town, the
message specified that Dr. Ferguson should be next
applied to ; but, unfortunately, it so happened that
both of these eminent physicians were in Scotland
at the time when the message reached their residences.
This failure having been reported to the noble inmates
of the Castle, Lord Clanwilliam (captain of Deal
Castle), who had hastened thither on bearing of the
Duke's illness, recommended that Dr. Williams, of
London, should be summoned to Walmer. De.
Williams was accordingly telegraphed for from Deal ;
and being at home when his presence was demanded,
he immediately set off to the South-Eastern Railway
station at London-bridge to take the train. He did
not reach Dea], however, in time for his services to
be of any avail. The Noble Duke's state gradually
became more perilous ; and he buffered a third attack,
still more severe than the preceding ones. When the
members of his family and his medical attendants
spoke to him, he appeared to be conscious that they
were addressing him, and attempted to articulate a
reply. His answers, however, were not distinct
enough to be intelligible; and, indeed, not a syllable
that he uttered from the moment when he ordered his
apothecary to be sent for could be understood. About
three o'clock he had a fourth and final attack, of re-
doubled intensity, which rendered him perfectly in-
sensible, and ultimately carried him off at the hour
above stated.

The painful intelligence was immediately trans-
mitted by sub-marine telegraph to his Grace's eldest
son, the Marquis of Douro, who is now staying with
his family in Germany. It is believed that the Noble
Marquis is at Frankfort, since the last communication
received from him was dated from that place; but
whether he is still in that capital, or in any other
nart of the German States, it cannot be long ere the
afflicting tidings reach him. Up to six o'clock this
evening, however, no return message had been re-
ceived from him to say when he may be expected in
England. His presence is, it his needless to add,
anxiously looked for at the castle. Until his arrival,
nothing will be decided respecting the interment of
the remains of his illustrious and lamented father,
but there can he little doubt that they will, in the
first instance, he removed to Apsley House.
The Noble Duke had, on the day of his death, an
appointment to meet the Countess of Westmoreland
at Dover, on her return to Vienna, for the purpose of
seeing her on board the packet which was to take
her across the Straits to the Continent; but infor-
mation was conveyed to the Countess at an
early hour that illness would prevent his Grace from
fulfilling his ensagement. The Countess received
the intelligence with great concern, and drove over
last evening from Dover to Walmer, to ascertain
the nature of the Noble Duke's ailment, when she
learned the sad intelligence that his Grace was no
more.

The quiet village of Walmer, and also the adjacent
town of Deal, have experienced a most painful sensa-
tion at the melancholy event. Yesterday all the shops
in both places were partially closed ; and the flags at
every public building, at Deal Castle, and at various
other elevated points, were lowered half-mast high in
token of reverence for the memory of the departed. At
Dover, likewise, the mournful tidings excited similar
manifestations ; and from the Castle Keep, from the
Admiralty station, the Harbour- house, the Pilot-
house, &c., the union-jack drooped, half-struck, as a
symbol of public woe.
Lord Fitzroy Somerset paid a visit of condolence to
the inmates of the Castle yesterday, and numerous
( quipages of the resident gentry of the surrounding
districts, are constantly seen moving to and fro on the
same sad errand..
Amongst the latest letters penned by his Grace
were two documents addressed to Lord Fitzroy So-

merset.
Mr. Greville, the Noble Duke's private secretary,
arrived at the Castle yesterday, and Lord Fitzroy
Somerset also visited the Castle during the day.
An express has been forwarded to -air. Parkinson, of
Lincoln's Inn fields, the private solicitor of the Noble
Duke. That gentleman has possession of his Grace's
will and private papers.
Whatever course of proceeding the country may
adopt, we believe that it has always been the wish of
his Grace that be should be interred privately at
Stratlifieldsaye, in the same vault with his Duchess,
who died in 1831.
All his Grace's public documents and State
correspondence will be handed over to Viscount
Mahon, who will thus become the literary executor
of the Duke of Wellington, as well as of Sir Robert
Peel.
His Grace became Governor of Weimer Castle on
the death cf the Earl of Liverpool in 1828. Tne
Lord Wardenship of the Cinque Ports has heretofore
been considered one of the Premier's perquisites. Its
emoluments consist of the Castle, grounds, fisheries,
&c., but of no salary.
William Pitt, amongst others, has been Lord
Warden.
THE RlVER.—Seldom was witnessed such a feeling
of regret, save on the death of a Sovereign, as was
evinced yesterday morning on the news being circu-
lated that the illustrious man was no more. Ships
and vessels of all nations, from the large Indianian
or trader to the small coaster or collier, all dropped
their colours halfroast high. From the pier• heads of
St. Katharine s, London, East and West India Docks,
the flags were also dropped, while the numerous large
factories and other establishments on the banks of
the Thames evinced a similar feeling of respect. The
large fleet of steamers belonging to the General Steam
Navigation Company were among the first to drop
their colours from the fore, main, and mizen; nd
ere the morning had far advanced, scarcely a craft
was seen going up or down without displaying the
emblem of mourning. Lower down the river the
same feeling was exhibited, and as soon as the home-
ward bounders learned the sad tidings their flags
were at once lowered.
THE TRINITY HOUSE.—On the death of the Master
of this Honourable Corporation being communicated
to the Elder Brethren they at once directed the usual
partial closing of the astablishments on Tower-hill and
Deptford, and the hoisting of the colours half-mast
high at the Trinity stores at Blackwell, and other
eeon as the intelligencesimilar can reach , •
and on the death of
was appointed Master of the corporation.
Duke was electedbrethren in 1829,
theo the elder _
Marquis Ceanden, 1837,
Tag TOWER.—The different effices of thelg'ahrerilsai:
and depot were partial!
important_h office of Constable
some
eg
Nears
Lauereceived
of
h eltdhtehe
dyeatchlused on the intelligence
of the Tower of London. . of his Grace, who for
The bell of St. Peter ad

V rel'-e the church of the fortress, was tolled nt
iub rv,As during the cky.
OXFORD, SEPT. 15.—Great s€nsaiion has been
produced here by the intelligence of the lamented
death of the Cbancellor of the It is
true that his Grace was net in the hebit of visiting
the place, or of exercising any direct influence in
academical affairs ; still, to a body so intimately con-
nected with the Church of this land as is the
University of Oxford, it cannot but be matter
of extreme importance to be provided with a head
who shall be a worthy representative of her spirit,
alive to the necessities of the age in which we
lire, capable of seeing his way clearly in the midst of
difficulties, and possessed of courage to maintain her
essential and unalterable principles against the oppo-
sition either of false friends or avowed enemies. Ti e
selection of a worthy successor to the Duke is, of
course, a subject not new to men's minds who had re-
flected on the great age which had been attained by
the late Chancellor, end the merits and demerits of
several candidates have probably been discussed in
most common rooms. Among these we may specify,
the Duke of Newcastle, Lord Derby, Mr. Sidney
Herbert, Lord Redesdale, Lord Harrowby, and Lord
E llesrnere.

LIVERPOOL.—The tidings of the death of the Duke
of Wellington caused a general feeling of depression
in Liverpool yesterday. The reports received by
telegraph late on Tuesday night were vague and
contradictory, but the dispatch of yesterday morning
was decisive. The flags on the various public
buildings were lowered, and the shutters of many cf
the shops closed, in testimony of respect to the late
Duke.

MANCHESTER.—The chief topic of conversation
upon 'Change yesterday was the death of the great
warrior; the shutters of the building were partially
closed in respect for his memory, and the flag was
hoisted half-mast high. It is expected there will be
a general mourning on the day of the funeral.
BIRMINGHAM, SEPT. I.s.—The intelligence of the
death of the Duke of Wellington, received by
electric telegraph last night, and generally known
after the arrival of the London papers this morning,
has, as might have been expected, notwithstanding
the extreme age of his Grace, excited mourn•
ful interest in this town and neighbourhood.
A feeling of regret, apparently unmixed with any
alloy, pervades all parties. The Duke of Wellington
was little known in this vicinity, and on the occasion
of his only visit to Birmingham, in 1830, when Prime
Minister (that we recollect), in company with the
late Sir Robert Peel, was rudely treated by an incon-
siderate.. mob. Those manifestations of hostility, whe-
ther in public or private, have, however, as regards
the late Duke and his then distinguished colleagues,
long subsided, and whatever differences of opinion
might have existed with regard to the public policy
of England's great warrior and his lamented friend,
they had for many years past won and enjoyed per-
sonally, as honest statesmen, the respect and confi-
dence of the people of these districts. The bell of the
ancient church of St. Martin's has throughout to-
day, by direction of the churchwarden, tolled a muf-
fled peal, and it is intended that this testimony of re-
spect and admiration shall be continued daily until
after the obsequies of the illustrious deceased. The
form of ceremonies which may be adopted ou the day
of interment will remain undetermined upon unt'
more is known of proceedings elsewhere.
(From the 7inzes.)

There are few persons of any reflection at all in this
.country who have not frequently—we might say con.
tinually—speculated on the event which now occupies
all minds. The solemn announcement, " Death of the
Duke of Wellington," accompanied with the usual signs
of national respect and concern, has long been as fami-
liar to the British imagination as the inscriptions we
have read a thousand times on the walls of our churches.
The gap that the Duke would leave in our councils or
our arms, the universal solicitude that would surround
his deathbed, the grief and dismay all would feel should
he die at some crisis of national peril, and the magnifi-
cence of the obsequies with which England would carry
to the grave the noblest of her sons, aro thoughts that
have occurred over and over again, not only to us, but to
our fathers, and to multitudes who hare long since them-
selves been gathered to the grave. Eighteen years ago
we remember that it was commonly said that the work
of the Peninsula was beginning to tell on that iron
frame, and since that men have predicted—till they were
wearied or ashamed of predicting—that each Waterloo
banquet would prove the last. Of late years increasing
infirmities—manifest, though energetically resisted—
the treacherous ear, the struggling utterance, and
the tottering step, all told their tole, and sug-
gested even a fear that the greatest man of his age might
live to illustrate the decay from which no greatness is
secure. Yet the event, so long in sight, as it were, has
come upon us by surprise. More than that, we venture
to affirm that the reality, in its impression and effect,
will prove very different from the anticipation. When
a man of high inventive and original powers is with-
drawn from us in the full swing of his activity, we miss
a forward spirit, a dexterous debater, or an eloquent
tongue. We know exactly what we lose, and we can
measure our loss; but it is not so when a pillar of the
State is broken, and a tower of strength crumbles to
dust. In that case time alone reveals the diminished
strength of the social fabric and the iacreasiug strain on
the remaining supports,.
The leading quality of this remarkable man, that which
seemed the sum of his other qualities, and which ren-
dered him in the judgment of the great French diplo-
matist " the moat capable man" of his time, was
that he always knew what was best to be done in
the actual state of affairs, and had the wisdom
wad courage to do it. In this there was but little '
show, and sometimes not a little obloquy. There was
no personal pride, no egotistic glory, in discerning and
obeying the dictation of circumstances. The exercise of
this quality in the face of adverse circumstances and an
overpowering foe afforded frequent occasion to the terror
of alarmists and the malice of detractors during the
changing fortunes of the Peninsular war. The Duke
always knew when to advance, and when to give way,
and when to rest content with a purely defensive posi.
tion. But the grounds on which he thus acted could
not be always so apparent to others, who saw no courage
except in resistance, and recognised no genius except in
its triumphs. The same trials, the sanse necessities,
have characterized the Duke's long political career, and he
has always met them and mastered them with his old
rule of doing the best that could be done. This was not
to lead a party or to represent a principle. Of course, it
failed to satisfy those who think the prosperity of the
country not worth concession or compromise. Hence in
is that the Duke's military and political life have to often
been compared to the disparagement of the latter, by
critics who are not aware, or who forget, that
the former also was exposed at the time to precisely the
ger tenable, and objects
same attacks. Posterity will pronounce the Duke one
and the same in all the stages of his varied career; ever
rheoa
longer
gto e
r give
attainable;
p
to sacrifice predilections and
himself, and do only what was best for his country. It
n o loe
is this very characteristic, so bumble' and inglorious,
which has rendered the Duke of Wellington the great
arbiter of factions, the chief of the Senate, the " First
Consul" of this Republic, and " the father of his coun.
try." It is this that has given him a constant place at
the right hand of the Throne. Ever ready to give his
advice without favour or prejudice, he has been appealed
to at the most difficult junctures, with the unanimous
concurrence of all parties. It was not that the Duke
had no opinions or predilections of his owis; he had them
us strongly as other men, and they were of a decidedly
aristocratic origin; but he freely gave them up for the
good of his country.
This, then, is what we have lost, and what may not
be so easily supplied even by the fresh memories and
living traditions of a wise policy. In the collision of in-
terests and the dead lock of parties we may some day
want a man, not to proclaim a principle, or to preach a
crusade, or to goad on a faction, or perhaps to drive the
Crown itself, as once in our annals, to fatal extremities,
but to tell all plainly the best thing to be done. We
may become painfully sensible of our loss long before
the recurrence of even such an ordinary Ministerial crisis
as that of last year. The enthusiasts that have bowed
to this authority, the turbulent and ambitious who have
feared it, and the timid who have relied on it, may now
give way to their several instincts. The great Duke is no
more. The constitutional aristocracy has no longer its
chief. The living oracle of a just and patriotic expediency
is silent. The finger ofceution that pointed to danger,vvhen
others were for pressing onwards, will no more be raised.
The Argus-rye that scanned every weakness iu the
State, and perceived the dire contingencies of a dark
future, no Leger watches for us. The man who gave
timely warning of an ill-starred expedition, who advised
the choice of commanders for services of difficulty, who
planned the secret defences of this metropolis in an hour
of need, who was believed to bo capable of meeting at
once soy danger from within or from without with equal
promptitude and success, and whose vigour of action no
one could doubt, is no longer among us. Nor is the loss
ours alone, for the Duke of Wellington was the greatest
man and the most potent name an the whole world.
Foreign as well us internal foes will feel a weight off
their souls; foreign friends will feel our alliance the
weaker. The mere presence and example of euoh a man
was felt to be security for our good order and stability.
" While the Duke lives," has long been a favourite
expression with those who feared or desired a change.
-find the land had rest for 40 years," we read in
the sacred annals as the natural result of some
great deliverance, followed by the rule of the deliverer
himself. That rest we have had. Looking to the im-
portant advice he has given at critical periods, and the
incalculable weight of his standing authority, it may be
said of the Duke, more than of any British statesman,
that he has jutgrd Israel, and that far a term of patri-
archal duration. The conclusion of such a moral reign
cannot be regarded without a degree of awe and even
apprehension. But it is only when the occasion comes
that our want will be fels. Nor is the political horizon
very clear at this moment. The Premier has a great
windfall of places and dignities to dispose of; but he
may soon be male to miss the great man whose uni-
versal powers were faintly expressed in the accumula-
tion of his offices and honours. Happily so energetic
a mind has left not merely
its impress on the age, but
worthy successors, in a nice of men who have already
had ample opportunities of illustrating, in peace as in
war, the example of their illustrious chief. Happily,
also, it seems a law of Pi ovidence that the death of one
great man should be the raising up of others, encouraged
by his example, and vieing for ihe inheritance of his
virtues and his name.
(From the s.7orning Chronic'e
The Dulie of Wellingtons career as a General ex-
tended only over twenty-eight years; but his life was
prolonged beyond his eighty-third birth-day. The