Supporter.

assistant.

Marquis of Hertford, Supporter.

Very few of the judges were present. Those that attended, wore their official costume, Then followed a train of high officers bearing the varied banners. One of the most interesting objects in this mournful assemblage, was the old earl of Harcourt, almost broken with age. The appearance of the duke of Norfolk in the ceremony, was also a striking circumstance in the scene, All eyes were now turned to the duke of Clarence, the chief mourner. The emotions of fraternal grier appeared to have completely subsided, and to have given way to a sentiment of calm resignation. The duke of Sussex fixed his eyes on the ground; his countenance was pale, and indicated a painful agitation within. The features of the duke of Gloucester were likewise expressive of much feeling.

The most solemn silence was preserved during the advance of the procession, and by the time that those who composed the rear had reached the choir, the first part of the burial service had terminated. The coffin was then placed near the entrance of the royal vault, the foot being directed towards the altar. The duke of Clarence sat at the head as chief mourner, the dukes of Sussex and Gloucester being on his right and left.

The venerable earl of Harcourt, who bore the baton of his late royal highness, stood at the foot of the coffin, opposite the chief mourner. The lord chamberlain was in the same position. The duke

The

of Wellington, who supported the pall first on the left hand, retained his place with the other five dukes who were pall bearers, on the sides of the coffin. six banners, which were carried by colonels in the army, were arranged between the coffin and the altar. The bishops took their seats in the stalls nearest the east end ;-the marquis Conyngham, lord Steward, occupied one of the lower stalls nearer the place of interment; the canons of Windsor sat in the stalls near the organ, under the knight's stalls; and the dean stood, in the earlier part of the service, under the sovereign's stall. The master of the rolls and the chief baron sat on the south side of the choir; as did also Mr. Canning, Mr. Huskisson, Mr. Croker, the earl of Westmoreland, &c.

The arrangements having been completed, the lay clerk and choristers chanted the proper psalm. The lesson was then read by the honourable and' Rey. Mr. Hobart; after which the beautiful anthem by Kent, was sung in the most impressive manner.

The solemn ceremony of interment was then performed. The lowering of the coffin into its last awful receptacle was a crisis which shook the firmness of many. The earl of Westmoreland with difficulty brushed away the tears. The duke of Sussex's eyes were suffused. of Rutland seemed much affected.

The duke

After the ceremony of interment, part of Handel's anthem, composed for the

funeral of queen Caroline, wife of George II., was sung.

The dean read the remainder of the burial service.

The burial service being concluded, Sir George Nayler, Garter King of Arms, proclaimed his Royal Highness's styles as follows:

"Thus it has pleased Almighty God to take out of this transitory life unto his divine mercy, the late most illustrious Prince Frederick of Brunswick Lunenburgh, duke of York and Albany, earl of Ulster, of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and knight of the most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, brother of his most excellent Majesty George the Fourth, by the grace of God of the united kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland, king, defender of the faith, whom God bless and preserve with long life, health, and honour, and all worldly happiness." The lord chamberlain then broke his wand of office.

The "Dead March in Saul" was not performed on the organ as on previous occasions.

The chief mourner, and the other distinguished persons of the procession, then slowly retired.

The choir being partially clear, the spectators within the chapel were admitted to a view of the coffin. It was very near the surface of the descent, and was without any covering, excepting the coronet and baton, which were placed across it on cushions. The inscription-plate was very large, and was most beautifully engraved. There was a total absence of military music during the whole course of the procession. On former occasions a royal funeral was rendered particularly solemn by the low wailing dirge and mournful roll.

The whole ceremony was over by half. past ten o'clock.

Saturday was observed throughout England as a day of general mourning. Business every where was suspended, and the churches were opened as on a Sabbath day.

The whole of the main avenue and more open spaces of the town were lined thickly with foot-soldiers; most of them bearing torches, and standing "easily," (according to the military phrase,) waiting until the funeral should arrive; adding rather to the seeming disorder by their irregular appearance, which was not so much like that of troops upon parade, as of men just marched into a town, and halting to be distributed into quarters. All the place was thronged with people of the lower class on foot, nine in ten of them strangers, and a great proportion mechanics from London, who had walked in advance of the procession all the way, with very little chance (in Windsor) of obtaining food or lodging. Carriages too were pouring in, from six to eight o'clock, in every direction; some from the west, as far as from Maidenhead and Reading, by the road from Salt Hill and Slough; others, who had outstripped the London cavalcade, by Frogmore and Datchet; and great numbers, from town, who had gone round to Slough and Langley Marsh, to avoid the crowd, entering in the opposite direction, through Upstone and Eton. Every other moment almost, the streets being narrow, these vehicles were either stopping up the way entirely, or meeting and endanger ing each other; and, through the whole crush and press, the Life Guards on duty and police constables were riding about, giving directions to the strangers, which were judicious enough probably in themselves, and intelligible to those who had originally devised them; but of which the persons to whom they were thus suddenly delivered, could not understand a point. Nothing could exceed the confusion and dismay of a great number of individuals, who had come in car riages from London and other places, on the speculation of seeing the funeral pass from their vehicles, and having no ticket or credential to be present at the ceremony, or any domicile to retreat to in the town-these persons were driven to and fro alniost at the discretion of the crowd, or of the guards who directed the clearing of the ground. The soldiers. neither knew nor could tell any more. than that carriages could not stop in. the streets;" and those who even attempted to stop, were so assailed by the cries of others who were behind them (andwhom they impeded,) and by the impor. tunities of constables, whose business it was to show them to the place of their destination, when they had any, that they

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lost all power of judgment, and could give no directions to the postilions or coachmen who drove them, but were anxious only to be out of the way. Some parties of foreigners who had come thus unprovided, were placed in a situation which would have been laughable if it had been less distressing; and the gentleman who acted as spokesman to one, on being pressed by twenty dragoons at once, to say where he wanted to go to; answered candidly, "that he had not expected to be asked, and did not know." Several vehicles, in this way, were carried away by entering into lines of coaches which were going to places to which the first had no access; and the only possible course was to "move forward," instantly; for a tremendous line was pressing in the rear, and to halt or turn round was equally impracticable. Many persons so situated offered any terms for admission to houses which the funeral would pass, but without success; and the greater part, being unable either to obtain accommodation or escape, were locked up in places from which they could see nothing until the ceremony was over. As the evening advanced, these instances of difficulty increased. Fresh multitudes continued to throng into the town, and the crowd and confusion consequently to become more unmanageable; until at length, just as the head of the column preceding the funeral carriages became visible in the town, as it approached from the eastward, the general rush of the people in that direction, with the crash of vehicles, and the clamours of those who drove them or attempted to keep them in order; the rapid flinging up and down lattices, and window sashes; the flashing of the lamps of those carriages which were privileged to pass forward, as they darted through the dark streets to the places of their destination; the hoarse roar of the general multitude; the trampling of so many horses, the constantly tolling of bells; the discharge of the half-minute guns in the park; the crowd of females at the windows of the houses, seen distinctly as in day light, by the lights within; and the blazing of the torches, reflected upon the arms and breastplates of the horse soldiers, and rather assisted, than otherwise, by an extremely dark and heavy character of night; this scene passing within the towe added to the appearance of a fresh body of carriages and cavalry, with their funeral trappings, plumes, escutcheons, and similar paraphernalia and all with torches in the distance-formed a general

display, not merely exciting, but almost amounting to terrific.

About nine o'clock, the cortege, which had latterly proceeded at a very slow pace, entered Windsor, and turning up Castle Street, proceeded in the direction of its journey's end, the Chapel. In the earlier part of its progress, the procession had excited some disappointment in the minds of the people, who expected to have found it more gorgeous, and attended by a stronger military guard; but, from this point, passing across the Castle Yard, and under the antique arches, to the chapel gate, the whole show-taken in combination with the ancient and beautiful edifice to which it was proceeding, and the circumstances under which it had assembled-formed a striking and an impressive coup d'œil.

In a short time, the chapel was cleared, the soldiers were in their ranks and departing, the carriages were rattling hastily homewards, and the crowd of Windsor, with the exception of only a few stragglers, had disappeared. Within another hour, the streets were as silent as on an ordinary occasion; the lights were all extinguished, and a fall of snow had obliterated even the footsteps of the numbers who had crowded the town so lately before. The pageant, and the confusion attendant upon it, had passed away for ever; it was but an event now in men's recollections-like the existence of the noble and regretted individual in whose honour it had been ordained.

The extraordinary beauty of the eight black horses (the king's property) which drew the hearse excited general admiration. They were driven by his majesty's principal coachman, six-in-hand, with a postilion to the first pair. But it is a curious circumstance that the funeral horses (hired) employed on the occasion, were not at all equal in quality to many which are seen every day at private funerals, but some of them even of a poor and shabby description. Unless there existed some reason for this choice, it injured the effect of the procession; and there seems to have been some other slight points in the arrangement, which, by management, might have been improved.

Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset-House,) and told by all Newomen and Booksellers.

· No. 247.

¡PRICE 2d

THE following narrative minutely details the progress of the Duke of York's illness, between the 9th of June, 1826, and the 5th of January, 1827 :—

The interest excited by the situation or the late Duke of York, and by every circumstance connected with his long, painful, and lingering illness, from its commencement until the fatal hour which closed his valuable existence, has been so great, and the general feeling which it produced, has caused so many particulars to be circulated and received by the public as authentic, for which there either was no foundation, or at least very imperfect foundation, that I have, upon due consideration, been induced to draw up from minutes taken during this distressing and trying period of my attendance upon his Royal Highness, a statement, not of the progress of the disease, or of the treatment pursued, but of such circumstances and facts as will shew the condition of his Royal Highness's mind under this awful visitation of Providence; will do justice to the exemplary resolution and pious resignation with which he met and submitted to it; and will satisfy his attached friends that his Royal Highness was, in every point of view, deserving of the respect and of the affection which have so strongly marked their sentiments towards him, and of the deep grief and regret which his death has occasioned in their minds, and in those of the respectable and well-thinking individuals of every class in this country.

The state of his Royal Highness's health had, for some time, appeared far from satisfactory, and had occasioned more or less uneasiness to those about him; but the first indications of serious indisposition, such as to produce alarm, were upon his Royal Highness's return from Ascot to his residence in Audleysquare, on the 9th of June, 1826; and Mr. Macgregor, who then saw him, urged him immediately to send for Sir Henry Halford.

From that period his Royal Highness continued more or less an invalid, and was occasionally confined to his house. Upon the 24th of June, his Royal Highness removed for change of air to

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Brompton Park, the residence of Mr. Greenwood, who kindly lent it to him, and upon that day he sent for me, and told me that he had been unwell for some weeks, and that he did not think that he gained ground. That he did not feel alarmed, and that he had perfect confidence in the attention given to his case, and the skill of his medical advisers. But that he knew that they might entertain apprehensions, which they would consider it their professional duty not to communicate to their patients, and he might therefore remain ignorant of that which ought not to be concealed from him, and which he trusted he should learn without apprehension, although he did not deny that he should learn it with regret. That there were duties to be performed, and arrangements to be made which ought not to be deferred to the last moment; and he felt that it was due to his character and station, to his comfort, and even to his feelings on this subject, that he should not be taken by surprise upon so serious an occasion. He considered it probable that the physicians would be less reserved with me than with him, and he charged me, if I should learn from them directly, or should have reason to draw such inference from any expression that might drop from them, that his situation had become one of danger, not to withhold such knowledge from him. He appealed to me upon this occasion for an act of friendship, he would add, for the discharge of a duty, which he claimed from the person who had been with him, and enjoyed his confidence during so many years; he called upon me to promise that I would perform it whenever the period should arrive to which he alluded; and he desired that I would bear in mind, that he wished me to deal by him as he was certain I should desire, under similar circumstances, to be dealt with.

I made the promise without hesitation, and it was received with a warm expression of thanks, and an affectionate pressure of the hand.

This was repeated in allusion to what had passed at a later period of the day, when he got into his carriage to go to