THE FUNERCL OF PRINCE LEOPOLD. Ceremonial at Windsor. [BY THE AUCKLAND " STAR'S" LONDONCORRESPONDENT.]

Te Aroha News, Volume I, Issue 53, 7 June 1884, Page 5

THE FUNERCL OF PRINCE LEOPOLD. Ceremonial at Windsor. [BY THE AUCKLAND " STAR'S " LONDONCORRESPONDENT.]

The account of the funeral of the late Duke of Albany fills four or five columns of our London daily papers. I'm afraid such a long story (mostly made up of dry detail) would not be read in your part of the world, so I have abbreviated it considerably without omitting any incident ot real interest. St George's Chapel at Windsor, where the Duke of Albany has been interred, is one of the architectural sights of the kingdom. Constantly added to, and as frequently improved, it embraces in itself the architecture of the old world and the decorative splendour of the new. The rich and florid ceiliMgs, the roof in beautiful tracery, adorned with the blazon of dead and gone Knights of the Garter, and the " Rose en SoleTi," which is the well-known cognisance of the Sun of York ; the banners and appendages of living and dead Knights of the Garter ; the magnificent east window, dedicated to the memory of Prince Albert, designed by Sir Gilbert Scott, and executed by Messrs Clayton and Bell, that superseded Sir Benjamin West's Resurrection window ; the alabaster rerodos, a supurb specimen of modern w ork ; the carved representations of the attempted assassination of George 111. by Margaret Nicholson, and of the thanksgiving ceremonies of the same monarch at St. Paul's in 1759, the carved crocketings and finials of the oak stalls of the Knights, the richness, the luxury, and the subdued colour must be familiar to antiquaries and to sight-seers alike. At ten o'clock in the morning of the funeral St. George's Chapel had undergone a wonderful transformation. It had seemed good to the authorities to subdue, whereever it was possible, the power of the dominant colour. Nothing could shut out the sunlight that sti-eamed through the painted windows of the choir, and played on the silken banners of the Knights of the Garter, nothing could subdue the richness of effect produced by fine decorative work and ancient carving ; but the order had gone forth to drape St. George's Chapel, not in purple or in violet, bnt in solemn funereal black. The nave now in course of repair was made into a dark avenue, occasionally relieved with white decoration ; the floor of the choir was black, the seats Mere cus-h-ioned with black, and the upholsterer hal introduced sable wherever he conveniently could. At the head of the stalls, close by the chancel steps, was placed a black -bier that over-covered a vault-shaped entrance to the depths of the catacombs below. So much up to ten o'clock had been done. The pall over the coffin was to be as it was at Portsmouth, the bright red, white, and blue of the Union Jack worked in silk ; the coffin itself was polished oak adorned with gleaming brass, the flowers that covered it were of the colour that nature in spring-time loves best ; while the uniforms of the mourners had nothing funereal about them. The clock had scarcely struck ten before the first attempt was made to lighten and brighten the silent and mournful chapel. The Duchess of Albany had visited for the last time the coffin of her beloved husband. The military watchers had been relieved from their midnight care, and the officials of the Lord Chamberlain's Office proceeded to take over the charge of the St. George's Chapel and its adjuncts. To the Dean of Windsor and the members of his family was appointed the task of arranging the flow ers and the palm branches that had arrived in profusion for the decoration of the chapel. As it was the eve of Palm Sunday, the great green branches were appropriate, fresh cut as they were from the conservatories in Kew Gaidcns ; and fco they were placed in convenient niches on the altar, half shading and covering sometimes the gorgeous carved and decorative work of the alabaster rerodos. Funereal wreaths and crosses ai*e usually piled up in close proximity to the coffin, and are dedica ted as it were to the actual entombment ; but on this occasion the flow ers had arrived in such profusion from all quarters that the Dean of Windsor and his kindly assistants thought it well to strew them about the chancel, at the base of the altar, and along every available space on the altar steps. At every convenient corner and at every available niche a memorial wreath or cross was placed with its ribbons, dedicatory prayers, and attached cards. They had come from every imaginable and conceivable quarter, from every individual member of the Royal Family, from the fair bridesmaids of the bereaved Duchess ; from loyal French &ociel ies, who sent gigantic wreaths of the Republican tricolour ; from the faithful Seaforth Highlanders, who mourned their departed colonel ; from the Dean and Canons of Windsor ; from the learned, literary, and philanthropic societies in which the Duke of Albany was interested — from every one who could claim kinship or acquaintance with the departed Prince. So, in order to utilise the floral offering?, the altar rails of the choir of St. George's Chapel enclosed a bed of choice and beautiful flowers— arums and lilies, gardina and stephanotis, eucharis and violets, geraniums and hyacinth, daffodil and primrose, the rarest flowers and the simplest, till the chapel was redolent of sweet perfume. This work j of decoration and arranging was carried out quietly and simply enough, and with some ready art and skill, such as are found when any church has to be extemporaneously adorned. Little more could be done in this instance than to prop the crosses and wreaths against the communion table and the communion rails, and to fill every available space and corner with flowers. The labour of love had scarcely been completed before the first of the invited guests began to arrive, and for an hour at least the officials of the Lord Chamberlain's department were employed m showing the guests to their appointed seats, though it was noticed that the various Knights of the Garter did not necessarily secure the stalls that properly belonged to them. For the Queen and the Royal Princesses had been reserved certain simple chairs at the end of the stalls on the north side of the chapel, close by the door leading to the Albert Memorial Chapel. It was thought at first that her Majesty would occupy the Queen's closet over the Queentin Matsys iron gate°, from which she saw the marriages of the Prince of Wales and of the Princess Louise, Marchioness of Lome, but those who where privileged to view the chapel before the ceremony began saw that the Queen had elected to fit close by the bier that awaited the reception of the young Prince's coffin. Thefirst procession to come up the aisle was that of the clergy, all robed, headed by the Very Rev. Randall T. Davidson, Dean of Windsor, who, by request of her Majesty, was to read, and not intone, th'e beautiful office for the dead, which is one of the most striking passages of the English liturgy. As yet there were no signs of the Queen. The chapel, as seen from a coign of vantage close by the organ, did not look half full ; but suddenly there broke upon the ear far away in the distance a low wail of music which warned all who were assembled that the funeral procession was on its way to the burying-place of kings and princes. Inexpressibly sad and infinitely tender was that

distant music. We could see in fancy, as wo listened, the mournful advance of the bearers of the dead Prince, and the brilliant retinue that waits on death. What music was it so striking in prolude and so exquisitely sympathetic in melody ? What were those melodious strains that wero borne thiough wide open doors to the very gates of the expectant tomb ? It was the " Marche Funebre" of Chopin, played by the band of the Coldstream Guards, which fell on the ears of ail who wero anxiously waiting in the r.hapol Scarcely had the weird prelude to the inaroh been succeeded by the exquisite melody, when all attention was lixed and all ears listening, and suddenly there was a rustle at tho entrance to the chapel at the north aisle, and then a hurried whisper, " The Queen i " traded by the Earl of ivenmare, Lord Chamberlain, with his white wand of office and with his official white shoulder knots, and by Lord Sylney, High Steward of her Majesty's Household, there entered quietly several ladies veiled and attired in deepest mourning. Her Majesty was easily recognised by her white weeper cuffs which alone relieved her mourning chess, but it was impossible to distinguish their Royal Highnesses the Princess of Wales, the Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, the Princess Louise (Marchioness of Lome), tho Princess Beatrice, the Grand Duchess of MecklenburgStrelitz, or the Princess Frcderica of Hanover, all of whom were present and conducted to their chairs by the Lord Chamberlain. Fainter and fainter became the music in the distance, and nearer and nearer came the sad procession. Those could hear distinctly who stood by the organ the steady tramp of the military bearers selected from the most stalwart men of the Seaforth Highlanders. The organ music softly coming to an end, was succeeded by the clear and telling voice of the Dean of Windsor, who, in the advance of the p-ad mourners, declaimed the sentences, "lam the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord;" "I know that my Redeemer liveth," and "Wo brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out." The procession has meanwhile advanced to the very centre of the splendid choir — first the officiating dean, next the servants and household of the departed Duke, then the coffin covered with its brilliant pall and borne by the gallant Highlanders in then- tartan uniform ; lastly the distinguished mourners, headed by His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, his Imperial Highness the Crown Prince of Germany, his Royal Highness the Grand Duke of Hesse, His Royal Highness the Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein. Directly the coffin had been carried to the bier, in the centre of tho choir, occurred perhaps the most striking incident in the pathetic ceremony. Military bands and pealing organs, the voices of whiterobed clergymen, and the sobs of mourners are common to many funerals, but it is rare indeed to hear in St. George's Chapel, in the intervals between the song of praise and the prayer of priest, the voice of the officer in command giving directions to the soldiers who so faithfully obeyed him Admirably, indeed, and with befitting solemnity, did this particular officer of the Seaforth Highlanders take the lead in this incident of the ceremonial. The music had ceased, the voice of the Dean was silent, and then was heard the directing voice of the officer in command as he bade his men lower decently their sad charge and burden. He did more than order ; he personally assisted, and, kneeling down, the commanding officer adjusted the coffin to the bier, which sank slowly out of sight, leaving the floor of the choir and the entrance to the vault carpeted as it were with the covering Union Jack, and strewn with the last ot the memorial flowers. Before the coffin had been lowered from the choir it was> made the resting place of the coronet and insignia of the dead Duke, boine by his old and faithful friends, Mr R. H. Collins, C.8., and Major Waller, R.E., members of tke Household of the Duke of Albany, and, the mourners having grouped themselves about the entrance to the vault, the burial seivice proceeded. Let us try to picture the scene. The Dean of Windsor, the Canons and Minor Canons, are within the altar rails, the Dean in the immediate centre, all in their white surplices. Immediately in front of them, on the lowest step of the chancel, are the Lord Chamberlain and the Lord Steward in uniform and with wands of office, facing the mourners in the centre of the choir. On the noith side sits her Majesty the Queen, in the middle of a group of Princesses in the deepest mourning, whilst over against them stand the Seaforth Highlanders and the Garter-King-at-Arms. Appointed places are given to the pall -bearers and to the servants and household on either side of the bier, whilst ihe whole floor of the choir is tilled with mourners, headed by his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, who stands bowed down with grief at the head of the coffin. The service, so far arrested by the military incident and the mournful words of command, is taken up again by the choir, who begin the grand old hymn, " 0 God, our help in ages past," to the well-known tune called St. Anne's. It is followed by the declamation, not intonation, of the pathetic 39th Psalm, "I said I will take heed to my ways, that I offend not in my tongue," and by the reading of the Funeral Lesson, the 15th chapter of Corinthians. A happy interval of music next occurs. It is the singing of the anthem, Spohr's " Blest are the Departed," and few in the chapel can restrain their tears as organ and voices join in exquisite harmony, and fill the brilliant chapel with waves of melody. The service is continued by the Dean, still standing on the highest altar step commanding this sad but impressive scene; first, the sentences usually spoksn at the grave whilst the corpse is made ready for the earth, " Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery," until the moment, in the subsequent prayer, when a handful of earth is thrown upon the departing coffin, "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy to take to Himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life " It fell to the lot of Mr Walter Campbell, one of the pall-bearers, and the most intimate friend of the Duke of Albany, to perform this last act in the sad ceremony. Distinctly could be heard during the touching pause of silence the earth and the stones rattling against the sides of the coffin half lowered to its re&ting place. But the effort of devotion proved too much for the young friend, and he fairly broke down, covering his streaming eyes with his handkerchief, and perfectly prostrated with grief. The appointed collects were followed by the comforting benediction, and then once more the choristers broke in with their singing of the concluding hymn, one of the most beautiful modern religious lyrics in the English language. It was the hymn called "Lead, kindly light," which was written by Cardinal Newman on the eve of his departure from the English Church, and which contains sentiments singularly in accordance with

the feelings of all who were present, and mourned not only a Prince but an affectionate friend. None could have listened unmoved to such words as these uttered by the surpliced choir and sung lo the v. ell-known tune from "Hymns Ancient and Modern," aud none could have failed to see their peculiar significance on the present occasion : So long Thy power hath blessed me, sure it still Will lead me on O'er n>oor and f on, o'er crag and torrent till Tho nipht is gone ; And with tho morn thoso angels' faces smile Which X have lovod long since and lost awhile. Amen. During the singing of the last verse of this exquisite hymn her Majesty and the attendant Princesses silently went out, and they were gone when tho last notes of the melody died away and the religious part of the service was at an end.