Monmouthshire Merlin

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON, As he appeared in the House of Lords. THE FUNERAL PROCESSION". I think it was about ten minutes past ten o'clock when I perceived, by a sudden turning of all eyes down the Stralld, that the cortege could not be far off, and then followed the distant and softened cadence of martial music. I did not make a note from the time I left until I returned, therefore I may be a little incorrectrin the order of the procession, for to use common a phrase, I only quote from memory. However, this does not much matter, as the reader can easily refer to the programme. The general effect, and not the details, is what I seek to convey. The first that "passed under the window were what appeared to be a small cavalcade of general officers •, then a band playing, (what I cannot say), but their plaintive and wailing music, and the touching scene of soldiers following with arms reversed, seemed at once to take all the fun out of the crowd, and to give them serious, if not solemn faces. The infantry headed the procession, and, like every other arm of the service which joined in the impressive ceremonial of the day, had a tradition associated with the great man whose coffin followed on the triumphal bier; for of the British Infantry he had said "They were a body of men whom he always felt he could take anywhere or do anything with." Battalions of the Foot Guards, a battalion of the 33rd Foot, a battalion of the Royal Marines, and a battalion of the Life Guards, in all making, I heard, 3,600 troops, tiled by us with reversed arms at funeral pace, and so nicely were their dis- tances measured, that as the band of each successive regiment passed in front of our window, that which preceded it was sufficiently advanced to prevent any collision or confusion of sound. Each band, too, played a different air, and if it did not touch the feelings, it tranquilised the features of all, whether spectators of or actors in the ceremony. The Cavalry, which came next, numbered 040 sabres—there were several squadrons, consisting of the magnificent House- hold Troops on their immense black chargers. The men are at least the successors of those who rode down the Old Guard, and cracked them in their cuirasses "like lobsters in their shells." The Lancers with their pennants..the richly-furred double-coated Hussars, the 13th Light Dragoons, and the ever-memorable Scots Greys, who made Napoleon more than once cry out in his anguish Oh, those grey horses." Every body who has seen those splendid regiments is acquainted with the superb and costly character of their uniforms. Their bands were in fact clothed" in cloth of gold, and but for the crape which draped every officer, the splendour of their uniform would have seemed to be too brilliant for the occasion. The big drum, the kettle drums, and the ensigns, too, were all shrouded with crape. Seventeen pieces of flying artillery fol- lowed with a stately roll; and then a band of the quaint old Chelsea Pensioners," shrivelled and weather beaten, but not one of them without three or four medals on his breast. There was a peculiar interest attached to these martial remains of the last great war; proud and splendid as were the young troops, it was these patriarehial warriors that helped to win for Wellington the laurels now literally heaped upon his bier. From Boiica and Yimiera to Toulouse and Waterloo there were some of those who had seen him,, whose corpse was now carried behind them, wield his martial baton in every Euro- pean battle he had fought. r It.. THE ROOM IN WHICH THE DUKE DIED. CENTRE OF THE WELLINGTON SHIELD. THE FUNERAL CAR. ✓ Those who came after the pensioners might be called a military motley, for they comprised one soldier from every regiment in the service, and the difference of facings amongst the varied throng must have struck the mc-st casual spectator. *e These past, my memory will not serve me to recount the a next comers in order. All I have is a general i-Ilection of I a procession of mourning coaches and military, and military and mourning coaches, my wonder being wheie they got the multitude of black horses necessary to draw the conveyances which accommodated the servants of the deceased Duke, the 5.' officers of the Tower, the deputations from the public bodies and companies, Barons of the Cinque Ports, the Captains of P: the various Castles under his command, the members of the J1 Board of Ordnance, of the L'nivcrsity, the Pursuivants at" Arms, the members of the Duke's Household, the Physicians, Com- panions of the Bath, Commanders of the Bath, Knights of 11 the Grand Cross, all interspersed with trumpets and followed ? by heralds, who preceded the Banner of Welleslev," a small square emblazoned flag, almost a scroll of gold, carried by 3 C! 8qual'e cmblazoned flag, almost a 8croll of gold, carried Colonel on horseback, supported by two Captains. c Then there was a string of Judges in their crimson robes » and ermine, several of the Ministry in private carriages, and the Speaker of the House of Commons in a paintecf coach, which locked, with its massive gilt embossings and fine pictures, as though it had been prepared for Queen Elizabeth herself. f Then followed Ear] Derby, and others of the Cabinet. I could not distinguish their features; but two Cockneys in the same room with me, who seemed to know everybody, called f them out by name for our edification, as they passed. 'Whether they were right or not I cannot say, but "they pointed out a :] plain carriage and pair, with claret liveries, as that of the d Chancellor of the Exchequer. If so, Mr. Disraeli had the carriage all to himself, for I could just see a man seated in one i corner, and I can fancy, with his budget before him, that his J mind was far away on another subject even amidst that imposing throng. I am not surprised, indeed, at he and all ] his colleagues looking thoughtful, for they knew that as soon 3 as they had lowered the Duke into his mausoleum they must i address themselves to action of another kind. You can "almost ] imagine them soyiug, as they rode off from St Paul's, the < ceremony over, Now that's over; the Duke buried, next for the budget, the fierce debate, and the critical division." i Three or four Royal carriages, each with six horses, and appointed and attended as on coronation or similar state occasions, preceded the one which contained Prince Albert, and .< seemed hardly so much paraded in the sight of foreigners and the world as part of a great funereal pomp, as to exhibit the wealth of the nation, displayed in our gorgeous roval establishment. Amidst all the gold and magnificent trap- pings, however, in which the horses were caparisoned, there was a happy and judieous mixture of the mourning element, and the heads, crests, and manes of the superb animals, were covered with masses of plaited black ribbon. To each carriage there were four footmen, in liveries, actually loaded with bullion. Now came another string of mourning coaches, some "£ them carrying the coronet of the deceased Duke, his personal friends, and the foreign representatives, and I have heard his } great co-veteran the Marquess of Anglesea, with a plentiful accompaniment of herald's trumpets, banneretts, and all the other gorgeous "luxury of the tomb." And then an excla- mation of surprise and admiration from all in the room, for the front file three abreast of the almost mammoth black horses, twelve in number, which drew the catafalque or funereal car, came on a line with our windows. Those immense animals, black as night, and not clothed in etwny- colourod mourning gowns, but in a suitable harness, in which the utmost taste and judgment were shown, (for while in colour and fashion it befitted the occasion, it did not conceal the noble size and symmetry of the horses), appeared almost conscious of the distinguished duty assigned them, for they carried their crests solemnly erect, and stepped out with their great black legs in almost military precision. A great bronze lion, formed the front of the car. which might be called a large but beautifully constructed platform upon wheels. On each side were trophies of helmets, swords, and spears, and behind were -wreaths of laurels and other j evergreens. Down the sides hung the heavy folds of the massive black silk velvet pall, ornamented with heavy silver embroidery, and above all, elevated some 15 feet under a canopy, exposed to view, was the coffin which contained the corpse of Arthur Duke of Wellington—the lion, as one of the company in the room with me said, though the dead lion of the day. The colour of the coffin seemed something between crimson and buff, and its mountings were many and richly gilt., But what most particularly struck me was its apparently small size. I suppose it was the immensity of the car, the size of the great horses, and the size of the great household troops which formed the procession, that so accustomed my eyes to magnitude, that when the object of all curiosity passed, it seemed comparatively of most diminutive proportion. Indeed, regarded in reference to the surrounding circumstances, it looked little larger than a child's coffin. Here, if one had time, was a theme for reflection. Weigh." says Juvenal, "weigh the dust of Hannibal, and see how i many pounds it makes and here in this little box of max- queteric work were the mortal remnants of what once enshrined the mind that could move to victory masses of I troops, compared with which the military attendance of that day was but a handful. 0, how one would have liked to have turned over the lid at that moment, and have seen the little sharp fearures of the old man fixed in death, the mouth set, perhaps, and the brow strong as ever, yet wearing Cold obstruction's apathy to all the gorgeous parade, the martial pomp, and public adoration amidst which it was borne to that grave where the rest of the warrior will again only be broken by a bugle reveille blown by archangel lips. I hardij attended to the line of coaches bearing the Chie f Mouiucr, t.iC troops, and three private carriages of the deceased Duke that followed, for my curiosity was now all set to see, in my opinion, the next most interesting object of the procession, namely, the late Duke's horse, led by his own groum. I pictured in my mind a war-horse, with his neck, as Job says, clothed in thunder," champing heavy bits, and clothed with martial harness, but instead, came a lightly-made though com- pact thorough-bred, small, dark-brown horse, which the Marchioness of Douro herself might have suitably backed. Beyond a plain saddle-cloth, his trappings were simple in the extreme, and the creature moved quietly and steadily, or occa- sionally turning to look around at the spectators in the windows, which the groom, who had given him plenty ofbridle length, allowed him easily to do. None, of course, failed to notice the Duke's boots, which hung by the horse's sides, and were fixed in the stirrup-irons. They were of the fashion of tl ose worn by officers of the horse gutrds, spurred and reversed, that is—the toes, not the heels, were turacd towards the hor.-e's flanks. The gioom him- self seemed dressed in keeping with the simple cha- racter of the horse's furniture top boots. light breeches, and a black frock coat. One wished that ;1.1 Copenhagen, the chesnut charger, which bore ish Grace through and from the last of fields- Waterloo—were living to take the horse's part in the day's procession. But the bones of the noble animal have long since been laid under the turf at Strathfieldsaye. Even the crowd seemed now to think there was Ltle more of the cortege left worth caring for. More officers and men from each regiment in the service followed, then janothei string of Royal car- riages, equal in splendour to the first, and a body of Life Guards helped at once to close and keep back the crowd from the procession, which took-I timed it by my watch—an hour and a half in passing-a much shorter period than most imagined. I had no card of admission to St. Paul's, so I can saynothing about what took place there. As the last line of guards passed, and the regular fall of feet and measured clanking of the cavalry chains, to which the ear had been accustomed for more than an hour, died away, I left my window, and crushing through the barrier into the streets, paral- lel with the main line of procession, I got nearly to Hyde Park Comer, before I could meet with a single rib to take me to the station, so numerous were their uses during the day, and during the night, z;1 too, fur I heard a Londoner say on sending to a carriage keeper the previous evening, he could only have a one-horse conveyance secured to take him a couple of miles, at daybreak, on condition of his pay- ing a guinea. The reader must excuse all omissions, imperfec- tions, and faults, in this account, for I wrote a good portion of it while sitting for the 2..15 train, in the waiting-room of the Great Western Railway, aud with three or four old and young ladies curiously watching me, and doing what they could consistently with good manners, to read what I was writing. Another correspondent gives the following ac count of the conclusion of the imposing ceremony at St. Paul's:—Whenthe coffin was borne into the sacred edifice, the wind for a moment blew upon and stirred the feather of the Marshal's hat placed upon the lid, and produced an indescribably sorrow- ful 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 sa^ 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 I soul in that vast multitude—with the bell tolling solemnly the knell of the departed, taken up by the voice of the distant cannon, and the quiet waving of bannerol and flag, surrounded by all the