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

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LONDON, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1852.

more sublime or more impressive spectacle has
seldom, if ever, been witnessed than the one yester-
day presented to view in St. Paul's Cathedral. It
was a scene eminently worthy of the occasion—a
theinolly befitting the funereal close of the career of
-,Juke of WELLINGTON. Englishmenhave at least
satisfaction among their historical recollec-
tion----that, in regard to ARTHUR WELLESLEY, they
proved their gratitude to him in life, and in death
y the tokens of a magnificent appreciation. In
reference, at any rate, to their treatment of this
Feat citizen, they have no cause whatever
r feelings of compunction. They showered
lie
ihP°ll him during his prolonged existence all
``e honours of which a subject could be the
reeipiellt• After his departure in extreme old
age they
at
paid his memory the homage of a truly
interment an interment marked by
iner:cht7ozeadtjhunerict of grandeur that could possibly
glorgeouSstall'clilleput_h and sincerity of the popular vene-
immediately under the dome of the
eholding edifice which, on the 18th of November,
1,852' was the scene of this historical celebration,
those thousands of spectators, comprising
1111°3agst them all that was noblest in the land,
--ustrions by genius or position, the dignitaries
of State, the
ministers of religion, warriors re-
11,„,;(3wned for their achievements, authors distin-
t`ushed by their contributions to literature, poets
d historians, orators and statesmen ; remember-
nig the solemn purpose which had assembled them
together___..a
Purpose appealing to every sense, a
Purpose audible in all those sounds of mourning,
and visible in all those hues of splendour—it was
limPoesible not to be touched to the innermost
fibres of one's sensibility by that august and
tsioipeeornbeecieler,emonial. It would be difficult, in truth,
any occurrence more awfully and pa-
thetically beautiful. Immediately before the en-
trance of the procession, the awe and pathos of
the occasion seemed to
become on all hands in a
"verY peculiar manner apparent. Looking from a
central position in the Cathedral, along the
grand avenue of the nave, the eye caught
at intervals a glimpse of the approaching
train
of the funeral. Between the crowded
t,benches ranged upon either side—higher and
411,gher) until lost in the pillared gloom of the ar-
emtecttire----occasional signs of preparation served
to
enhance what one of our living writers has
tea. lied the sense of " dumb expectancy." Some-
tabardlines it was a herald, robed in his embroidered
looking
Bishop,
like a figure from the middle
ee sometimes a surpliced group of ecclesias-
tendants ticste bean,
or the with their at-
.

The appearance of the principal
personages en-
gaged in the ceremony was, in each case, ofitself,
of the SPEAKER
an incident. It was so with the entrance
transe,t , , who took his place in the north
N surrounded by the Commons. It was
eel with that of the CHANCELLOR, who confronted
him in the south transept, in the midst of the
Patricians of the United
Ki ngdom. It was so
with the first subj m, who entered
Witho ect of the real
without any pomp, without a single follower, and
ut the smallest mark of distinction—the
Archbishop of CANTEREITRY. It was so also, in a
Core especial manner, with the advent of the PRINCE
ONSORT, preceded by the LORDMAYOR carrying the
sword of the City of London. Upon the advance
of the funeral procession itself, from the western
porch---the veteran soldiers of the departed, bear-
ing the staves and wearing the costume of Chelsea
diately in
Pensioners, stood upon either side, while imme-
front of them (to the north officers, to
to the south privates), each upon one knee, were
soldiers, comng prisi in their number one man
from every
regiment in the British Army.
Solemn, ,
however and
undoubte grand, and affecting, as had
dly been every one of the previous in ci-