AT WINDSOR

Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 13738, 20 May 1910, Page 8

AT WINDSOR

FROM THE STATION TO THE CHAPEL.

A member of the staff of the Wellington "Pest." who was on duty in a volunteer corps at Windsor on the day of the luricrai, describes the. scene as follows : —

•'The day. early in February, was bitterly cold, raw and bleak, far worse than the worst southerly weather ever experienced in Wellington. Snow lay on thc ixround a few inches deep, slowly tlwwing into a slush that numbed tiie tcet of the expectant troops, many of whom had entrained in the darkness of tho oarlv morning, and on arrival at Slough had marched across the-meadows ot the Thames \'al!cy through the hilly main street of the royal town, sombrely draped in the purple of a nation mourning for its dead Sovereign.

"Through the morning and afternoon the volunteers waited at Windsor for the arrival of the body from Ixuulon. Die writer stood just outside the main entrance to the lamous Chapel ot St. George, one of the most beautiful building* in the wor>l. Ou the high watch-tower, commanding a view over the town, were the signallers with their flags ready to announce to the people IfcJow tho approach of the funeral cortege. Officers and cificials, in the rjunint uniform and costumes traditional in the Royal retinue, moved silently hither and thither about their duties. Ever and anon would come the clang of a falling rifle, and the thud of a b:;dy striking the grcund. as men tainted in ttie ranks from exposure, it was n most trying experience.

"At length there came a vigorous waving ol ilags from tho watch tower, with answering signals from the guards at til' loner end of the drive Then the faint sound of a band playing doleful music, growing louder as the procession mounted the steep street towards the castle. It was indescribably sad—the heavy, iron-bound day, the grey skies, and the dark uniforms. Presently the procession entered the castle gates. The band of the Coldstream Guards struck up the Funeral .March of Chopin always beloved by the Queen. The Household Cavalry advanced slowly along in their deep crimson cloaks and brazen helmets and cuirasses. Then "came tho most touching scene of all. At Windsor station thc horses appointed to drinv the gun carriage with the coffin had became excited and unmanageable. Their places were taken by bluejackets, who hauled their precious burden up the sic pcs and into tho castle. They were nearly all in tears as they passed the chapel. As the slope was now downward, some ran to the wheels of the gun carriage, and braked them with their arms and shoulders. It was beautifully simple and characteristic of England after tho gorgeous accoutrements and equipage of the Household Cavalry.

Then followed the chief mourners— the late King, the Kaiser, one of the Grand Dukes of Russia, brother of the Czar, and irfany other kings and princes of Europe and Asia, whose names one cannot recall now after rearly a decade. There, however, were Lord .Salisbury, Lorel liosebery, and the leaders of the British aristoetacy, great commoners like isii- Henry Campbcll-Bannerniar. and Mr Asquitii. Tc a man, half-frozen with exposure to the bitterness of a winter tlay, they passed like a pageant in a dream—the Chinese Ambassador in his Oriental robes, the representatives ol Un South American republics in half the colours of the rainbow—heralds, pursuivants, and all tho icst of tho officials of the Court. Two things only left abiding impressions—the exquisite rendering of the funeral march, and the pathetic griel of the weeping British tars braking tho gun-carriage down the slope.

A writer in the "Sydney Morning Herald," who was also on duty n't Windsor, says:—

"Something was stirring up tho line there. Company after company of Cambridge _ was coming to attention. We—watching them—were called to attention, too. " 'Rest on your arms reversed!' "Of what happened in the next fivo minutes I never had any vary clear idea. I only know that I was numbed with frost when the procession appreached, and I believe I found myself glowing hot when it had passed. "I only -know that there was something very solemn and great and silent, moving down iijp'on us, ami bsfore we knew where we were the bugles of tho Gun ids, in their heavy grey coats and bearskins, were silently swinging ptst us in that cuisy, slow step—infinitely sclemn anel stately. "I only know that I had never dreamed that it was .possible to draw from brass instruments tones one tithe as mellow as tho broad, rich, soft, full chords of those masscel bands in Chopin's 'Funeral March.' It was a sheer revelation to know that brass inptrumej.ts could <lo it, and I that in most cases they could not. . . .

But as the soft, full, mellow, satisfying chords swent slowly by within a few feet of one's head, with the low continuous rolling of the drums and tbb slow tramp of feet on the gravel, it was music to fill the henrt anel flow over. I never heard the like of it lieiore or since.

"Before we knew it there was the crackle of wheels on the gravel and a line of bluejackets was passing rattier huddled together—two slightly irregular lines of them strung out along two long parallel lines of thick new rope. They were muscular, bronzed, bearcled men, and they seemed very quiet .-nd stern, anel some of them very white and almost trembling. Down many of the grim, strong faces—and it is no exnegeration to say they did look grim and strong just then—there were tears rolling. One hardly realiseel until they were past that they were pulling something—something that wc>s oemiing down tho hill behinel them, with the occasional knocking of r>n axle-box. and tho gravel crisping under the wheels. A bluejacket clung on to the tyro and spokes of each wheel to steady the gun carriage which bore that something down tho hill.

"It was something very small—and very white—and very precious. It was something more precious than anything else in the world just then. And somewhere on the centre of this precious little spotless white burden was another thing, much smaller still, a tiny something which sparkleel and flashed and coruscated with the cold crisp gleam of diamonds under the cold sky. It was the crown of England. But just then one could not help somehow imagining that this tiny scintillating core of the whole great spectacle was the sign of the pure transparent soul of the great woman that lav beneath."