The Sun.
London, England, 1852-09-21 00:00:00

TIIE SUN,

SPIRIT of the PUBLIC JOURNALS. : heraldic pomp and procession', which certainly Cannot
PROM THE MORNING PAPERS OP THIS DAY. I benefit the dead. It is undeniable hat almshouses
TTYLES.—This day a week will have passed since" may, in a. sense, be more permanently beneficial to
England lost the greeteet of her sons, and as yet the • society than statues or monuments. "In a sense,"
slightest possible intimetion has been given of the we say—but in a sense which we never find
-hay in which this country will perform her last debt , consistently or logically carried out—in the
of ;eatitude. There is to be a public funeral, it is an- I same sense in which all income or pro-
nounced, and, it ie further reported, on a very grand I pert. him.' what its poaseetor abtoluttly needs for
scale. The arrangements; however, are not yet defi- I personal use might be confiscated for the good of the
nitively settled, and among those arrangements still poor. A public funeral can only be condemned upon
left in darkness are the place, whether Westminster principles which would equally forbid the pur-
or St. Paul's—the attendance, whether it will profess chase of a picture or a work of art. We de-
to include the two Houses of Parliament—the regi- fend, therefore, the decision to honour the remains
meets to assist, and of course the time, besides every of the Duke of Welliugton with a public funeral,
other detail. The only clue given us is a general re- both upon the nft-ural fittingness and right of
ference to the funeral of Nelson, and we have seen it the thing, and also for its practical tendencies.
expressly, and almoss authoritatively, stated that the A public funeral is an exceptional thing, and the
precedent of that occasion is to be observed. The only Duke of Wellington was an exceptional man. The
reason we can imagine why so extraordinary a promi- " Iliad" ends with funeral celebrations, and such a
nence should be given to that precedent is that it hap- career as the Great Duke's demands an epic ternai-
pens to be the only precedent at all to the point since the nation. The solemn drama of his life would halt
publication of the Annual Register. Bat, as the poet without it. Honoured and titled in life, it were in-
tells US," Vizere fortes ante Agamemnon," there were consistent that he should not receive the nation's last
great Englishmen before the compilation of that very tributed to exalted worth—
convenient Annual, and among them are the names of . His saliem accumulem donis.
Monk and Marlborough, both of them far more to We can do no more ; but this is the very ground
the point than Admiral Lord Nelson. All the world upon which we do thus much. Perhaps we shall
be
naturally compares Marlborough and Wellington, told that it is the man that dietnifies the hearse--nut
and all the world gives the palm to the latter. With the hearse the man. A nobody, even though a duke,
Monk uke ,
Monk the comparison is not so obvious, though per- acquires no honours or respect by being encased n a
haps more just, taking into allowance the peculiarity sarcophagus of basalt; whilst there are those who
it. But
act, the circumstances under which Monk was called to would glorify plain deal boards. We know
act, and the necessity be was under of acting a double it is not because a man is above all honour that his
the
thanuty ofti
t showingl
es; but
part. Wellington, more fortunate than either, has countrymen are released fromor e d
never had to change his allegiance or to disguise his him any. Great deeds dignify more
loyalty. But these three men were the most renowned we have hardly yet arrived at that supersensual state
and most meritorious subjects of the British Crown— of society which can dispense with prizes and re-
Monk in the 17th century, Marlborough in the 18th, wards. A public funeral is the only
legitimate com •
and Wellington in the 19th. This is the series. The element of Strathfieldsaye and a dukedom. And
two former are the, precedents to be folllowed in it relieves, while it expresses, the popular sentiment.
the present instance, and England will show her- If we venerate, we must express our reverence
self very degenerate if she does not bear in external actions. The late Sir Robert
Wellington to the tomb with as much solemn Peel was a purist in the matter of posthu-
pomp and expressive circumstance as marked the moue honours—he absolutely prohibited everything
obsequies of Monk and Marlborough. The Chan- like 3 public funeral. But the universal feeling has
cellor of the Exchequer, who will, we presume, have proved too strong for personal taste—the individual
some voice in the matter, speaks in a recent biography prejudice has been overruled—popular gratitude and
with pathetic regret of the age of stately manners, I veneration are irrepressible—and our cities are be.
now almost gone by. We can assure him that on a
coming scudded with statues of the man who, by
ticipation, discouraged any outward recognition of
an-
just and adequate occasion, such as the present, the
people of England are prepared for quite as much his worth. It is enough, then, to say that, since the
state as ever. They are resolved to honour the men
I popular voice is in such matters irretistible—irresisti-
ble as the impulses of the heart, apart from the logic
with whom they have been accustomed to identify the
fortunes and character of this country, and whom of the head, always are—it is better to accept than to
they regard as the providential agent for securing to repress the national sentiment, and to do, with become
England and the world the longest term of prosperity, hag solemnity, that which, whether we like it or not,
order, and peace that they have ever enjoyed. It is will be dent. irregularly and informally. Tne public
time to speak with emphasis and precision on the sub- feeling will always find some mode of expression, and
jest, because we have beard some ridiculous rumours, it is the duty of the State to give it a fitting one. We
which may or may not have an atom of foundation, cordially bail, therefore, the formal resolution which
but which, in the absence of authentic announce- has been adopted by the Crown to honour the memory
meets, we can only disbelieve. We have heard it said of the Duke of Wellington with a public funeral. All
that the Dfejse cannot be buried in St. Paul's because that the British people can do in this matter it ought to
there is Do place neer St. Paul's where the artillery do, and the country has determined to do its best.
cen fire a salute, and that there are not troops enough Were it nothing else, the Royal determination shows
within tall to keep the line from Apsley House to St. a graceful tvmpathy with the unanimous wish of the
Paul'!,, besides those who will join the procession. It people. " Unanimous," we have said—yet we must,
is oleo whispered that the Guards attend none but perhaps, recall the word. It is hardly possible to
Royal funerals. The only word we can find for expect that the decision will not meet with some
these objections is that expressive monosyllable with cavils. Tne occasion is too tempting for that prig-
-which Mr. Burchell, in the " Vicar of 'Wakefield," gism which apes philosophy at the expense of deny-
describes the conversation of the fine London ladies, ing man's moral constitution, and for that false
"It is all fudge." There are plenty of places near economy which cannot see that there are times when
St. Paul's where any number of nine-pounders could profuseness itself is the truest and wisest economy.
be discharged with no more damage than blowing out Moreover, there is so much in British funerals, as
a few panes of glass already on the go, and making usually conducted, which is absolutely revolting, that
a little work for the glaziers. If the' Tower is too we cannot be surprised at sensible people being pre-
fer, Smithfield
Ls. but
.a quarter of a mile off. Bank- judiced against any magnified form of what, even in
side, on the south bank of the river, opposite St. its simplest aspect, is barbarous and repulsive. We
ZOO
Paul's, is not in- do not want our hero's funeral turned into an elle-
disp sued the cannon could be fired from hulks le
ensable, yards off. But terra firma is not
orical fete with Fames and Victories, and tinsel tro-
or dockyard lighters moored in the middle of the phies, and muslin transparencies; nor do we desire
stream. Waterloo-bridge itself, the position and a display of the undertaker's vulgarity of
great elevation of which would make up for its mountains of black feathers, with a velvet
greater esistance than the other localities mentioned, packing-case, miscalled a hearse. We trust
might With great propriety be converted into a bat- that the arrangements about to be determined
tery for the occasion. St. Paul's, beyond all doubt, on will be creditable to the advanced taste and sense
is the right resting place for the great Duke. Whether of propriety of the age. In such matters we ought to
by tee side of Nelson, where there happens to be have made some progress since the death of Nelson.
aneple space, or in some distincter site, he should he We want something higher at work than Mr. Dow-
-laAd within our grandest temple, and where there biggin's chief upholsterer, or the costumier of a
'Rill be room for a suitable monument. Westminster minor theatre. We are about to bury a Christian
Abbey is now so crowded with statues of all sorts, and a Captain ; and although English processions are
styles, ages, and sizes, that order and propriety have a proverbial failure, the present occasion affords a
became as impossible as in an old curiosity shop in rare opportunity of not only retrieving our eesthetio
Wardourestreet, or a statuary's yard in the New- character, but of devising a ceremonial which shall
road. We trust that we shall never see the Duke's tell on the hearts of its innumerable and sympa-
last monument swamped in that motley marble thizing spectators. The Army, the Court, the Se-
throng. St. Paul's is our Pantheon, our Valhalla, nate, the University—all claim the Duke of \Vel-
our Chapel of the Invalides ; and when strangers ask lington as their head—all must be represented in the
for the tomb of Wellington, we shall have in St. procession ; and if the detestable black cloaks
Paul's an edifice, the state of which, if it be not all and abominable hat-bands are dispensed with
that could be desired, will at least not promote a —if every official person attends in his ceremonial
gentile. We shall never be able to say as much for dress—something rich, imposing, and truthful may,
*Westminster till it is cleared of its surplus marble po- or rather must, be the result. British funerals are
yeulation. The alleged want of troops sufficient for so ordinarily offensive, because they are got up in the
lengthened a procession, if there be a particle of truth most vulgar and tasteless spirit, for the sole purpose
in i:, throws rather a serious light on the question of of making an undertaker's bill; but they might be so
national defences. Is it possible that with our nu- arranged as to form the most becoming and affecting
merous railways we cannot concentrate in the metro- of ceremonials. We cannot doubt, however, that the
polls, at six weeks' notice—for the funeral need not same spirit which ordered a national funeral for the
be earlier—enough men to keep Piccadilly, the Strand, nation's greatest man will take care that it shall pre-
and from Temple-bar to St. Paul's, and give a mili- sent nothing repulsive either to artistic taste or to
tart' aspect to a funeral procession ? Undoubtedly Christian feeling. St. Paul's already possesses me-
there are enough in the country. The lines of Torres morials of military heroes which make us blush for
Vedraa extended, if we remember, eighteen miles, and our country, hut let us hope that the obsequies of
t'ne Duke kept them against 60,000 men. From our Greatest Captain will be the beginning of a new
AOsleY•heuse to the west part of St. Paul's is not and better mode of bestowing public honours upon
mere than two miles and a half- And now for the the dead. But further, whatever arrangements may
Guards. There is about as much truth or sense in the he made, wet claim for the British people their full
hetten of the Guards never atsistieg except at a Royal share in their last tribute to their hero. The funeral
funeral as in the celebrated eleeeeh, " The Tenth never which is announced is to be " public"—not a show
tri.e•'' The Guards performed the principal part it: to be got up for the greoification of the privileged
unerals both of Monk and of Marlborough, as our holders of Lord Chamberlain's tickets—nut a
readersweh may see fur themselves in the accounts which display to be confined to the aristocratic quartier—
Ou the former extracted from the cutemporary journals. but one in which peer and artisan, City and Court,
occasion the streets from Sgieereet are alike to participate. A public tutieral which
house to cif •
estmintter Abbey were lined by " the does not traverse the public haunts of men,
Red and glee R_ -
the Train Bands
of Mid-
egimente of tne Train
Alsace, the - -
, originals of the Horse
G tterds red and and we trust that nothing grudging or partial, either
blue now h
Existing,e is h d `• h'
At the head of the procession in the details of the ceremonial or in the spirit in
mare
Royal Hitt ness the Duke of York's which the },attic are to be asked to share in it, will
Troop of Guards." " His
Guards marched next after them,-The Duke of le el.
Grace the Duke of Monmouth;" commanded .
by his nally attended the nation's loss.
the word " troop," lington, though burn and festered an aristocrat, was,
in both these cases, being equivalent
to the " regi- after all, the man of the people—raised to his great-
resent" of our days. "In the next place marched ness, and sustained in it, by the public voice. He was,
his Majesties regiment of Foot guard., commanded in the highest and truest sense, the most p titular man
by the Right Honourable Colonel "oh
John Russell." of his age ; and in all that remains of him the people
•
Then came' the " Proceeding," in which, apparently have the first right. Already his ashes are taken pus-
occupying a post of honour, occurs " Ensign John session of in the name of the English commonwealth
Churchill," one day to be borne to the graeein :emitter —the Duke of Wellington belongs no longer to his
state. "And after them, next to the 'Proceeding,' own kindred—his country has received him to herself.
the regiment of cgteetheams (which took this place We have charged ourselves with a high commission—
bye his Majesty's command, as having bean
the let us see that we fulfil it honourably to him whom we
General's own regiment)." Then came the funeral try to honour, and becomingly to ourselves ; and it
car, the mourners and their attendants. "next may
. be that, among the myriads who shall witness
after the horse of honour or state, her Metes- the Great ' •
Duke's obsequies, their splendour may
ties troop of Guards closed the rear of the Pro- kindle in some hearts the desire to emulate, if not the
ceeding, which bad this place by particular order, as deeds, yet the patriotism and the loyal fidelity to duty,
having been his Grate the defunct's own troop of of the Duke
of Wellington.
Guards." And are we to be told, after this, that his
Grace's own regiment, the Grenadier Guards, is not
only to be denied this precedence, but is to take no
part at all in the funeral ? The idea is so utterly
preposterous that we are ashamed to mention it, and
We are quite sure that if every man of the Guards,
horse and foot, red and blue, is not at his post at the
,funeral_ of England's greatest man, it will go very
hard with that branch of the service for the future.
The public feeling wall not be satisfied unless every
Berliae,
every officer of State, every great institution
of the
e realm, every relic of ancient chivalry, takes its
talle place and share in this national act. Such
an
is
occasion
always _ not merely one of a century, for there is
httethe thought that it may be the last. Whether
e hope that England
to such d n may never again be exposed
amon, h_2Bgers, or fear that she may not find
ephiry doubt the
tsh so powerful a champion, we may
We are otter, told
edrecurrence of so grand an occasion.
are gone by, tu: indeed, that the days of pageantry
not a single office,w eau that be said when there is
name, in the descri;;ot a herald, not a form, not a
funeral of the Duke of
of the " Proceeding" at the
stilt survive ? We have oatenilbtmarle which does not
Wial at the funeral of the jukealluded to the ceremo-
vas on the precedent we have ofd Mirlborough. It i
conducted at the expense of the ma described. Though
that did not prevent the attendaneegfcent Duchess,
The " order" begins thus :---" Detach) the Guards. ,
Grenadiers. The two troops (i. e., regiments)
of Horse I
Grenadier Guards. The four troops ofraegoirments) of '
according to their priority. The Coldstrean:ereGuards
of Foot Guards. A train of artillery, " eee. Thgeiment
order
ends, " A hundred Horse Guards to close the ,i
"ssien." As the proCeSsion had to start fprro o-
Marlborough House, the direct way thence to We:.
entered.
Abbey would not have left room for it; to it
e Sc. James's-park through agap in the garden \
_ _ went up Constitution-hill to Hyde-perk-corner, i
a° tr,rough Piccadilly down St. James's-street, and ,1
,
"'shine the
I'4ll. mail, c front of Marlborough-house, through
enineter Abbey, and King-street to West•l
the proper deveYl. This circuit, found necessary for !
be less than the distance
' from Apsley House to St.
will be done or .decidecinrever, to say that nothing
cannot take place, as we elea a hurry. The funeral
and though a ceremonial re'efur five or six weeks;
i
banging over so long le
-- not •this melancholy sort
vett would rather submit tothesvnhout inconvenience, !
national duty should be inade delay than that a great i
CHRONICLE.—It is only tahtelY discharged.
naturedeparted
that impels mankind in eheamon dictate of I
%Parted worth • h funeral ad times t
o honour
Philos° h. wit ceremont
th plc or self-confident enough to We are not
e general co reason against
of
ewe . consent of all religions, a
tie civilization. It is . gas, and degrees
to and the easy to discourse or egrees
to deg e unpractical nature of pubt the useless-
"eonatrat ic funerals—
° how unprofitable to the living are

FUNERAL OF
LORD NELSON.
As
we are now enabled from authority to announce
that a public funeral will be accorded to the remains of
the great Duke o
ptopriate nor ill-timed' Wellington, it is deemed neither inap-
on the present occasion, to offer
the reader an account
of England, Lord Nelsoof the obsequies of the naval barn
Nelson.
It is derived from the Annual
Register for the year 1806, and it has been copied by all
:he biographers ot the victor of Trafalgar.
The Great Hall at Greenwie
Sun-
day, the sth of January, 1806, tillosrownpital was OR Sun-
open for the ad-
mission of iteo public to see the coffin which hieh contained
the body of our naval hero, when the c
bee_ ?nfusion and im-
petuosity of the crowd, who had
per:quelled. It
admission, was such as was perhaps never ,Waitiog for
and:z un-
was calculated that upwarcis of 20,000
able to gain admission. On the second
qually great; but some troops (41 days
the crowd was e
Guards having arrived to assist the volunteers, these ise
gress and egress were effected with more regularity,
though not without many persons suffering severe ia:
jury. The arrangements for the solemnity were as fol-
low:—In the funeral saloon, high above the corpse, t,
canopy of black velvet was suspended, richly fes-
tooned with gold, and the festoons ornamented with
the chelenk or plume of triumph, presented to his
Lordship by the Grand Seignior. It was also
decorated with his coronet, and a view of the
stern of the San Joseph, the Spanish admiral's ship,
already quartered in his arms. On the back field, be-
neath the canopy, was emblazoned an escutcheon of his
arms, the helmet surmounted by a naval crown, and en-
riched with the trident and palm branch in saltier—
motto," Palmam qui meruit terat;" also his shield, or-
namented with silver stars, with the motto, " Tria juncta
in uno;" and, surmounting the whole, upon a gold field,
embraced by a golden wreath, was inscribed in sable
characters the word " Trafalgar," commemorative of the
proudest of his great achievements. The Rev. Mr.
Scott, the chaplain of the Victory, who, in consequence
of his Lordship's last injunctions;,
atteccled his reinatns
1 from the moment ot his death, sat, as the chief mourner,
in e atnheelrboomw chair at the h, ad of the ceffia. At the foot
fringed a a pedestal covered with black velvet, richly
i with alternate black and yellow, and supporting
a helmet surmounted by a naval crown, ornamented with
the chelen
oorrd :IV uto phh al plume, with models richly gilt,
and his
mourners were IP's ield, gauntlet, and sword. Ten
eaoraced, three on each side of the chief,
and one at
corner of the coffin, all in deep
mourning, with bt
scarfs, their hair full powdered
in bags. Ten •act;k
e.ebl4zoned with various
elevated on staves, and
ship's arms and 41,1"3 qusrtcriugs of his Lord-
jog its appropriate
eraldic dignities, each bear-
, covered with towards the coffin, fie, motto, were suspended
each side. A railing in
form of a crescent
neral saloon from the great
black, enclosed the fu-
which, from right to left, thet hall, by the ellipsis of
recede,,;. Bath the hall and raters approached and
rounded at the tops by rows of
silo: were entirely sur-
two wax lights, and between each two sconces, each with
I his Lordship's armorial dignities. w4,)hean escutcheon ot
the procession took place on Wednead aquatic part of
aYe the Bth. The
etitsauoe of the several City companiel into their barges