Funeral of Lord Jellicoe

With due and fitting ceremonial, farewell was said yesterday to Admiral of the Fleet Earl Jellicoe, who only a fort- night before had assisted in the Armistice Day commemoration of the fallen in the War, in which he played so notable a part. Lord Jellicoe's body rested for a time yesterday morning within the Admiralty building before being carried on its last journey through London to St. Paul's Cathedral to be buried in the crypt, near the tombs of Nelson and Collingwood. In the procession which escorted the coffin from Horse Guards Parade the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York walked with a company representative of the British and other Navies, and of the Army and the Royal Air Force. The day was bitterly cold, and a grey mist shrouded buildings and flags flying at half mast, but the route to the Cathedral was lined with crowds, which had gathered to pay a last tribute to the great sailor who at a critical period of the War kept the seas for his country and the Allied Powers.

THE PROCESSION

The coffin, which had remained in the King Henry VII. Chapel of Westminster Abbey through Sunday night, was taken privately to the Admiralty about an hour before the start of the State progress to St. Paul's. Lady Jellicoe, with members of the family and the Dean of Westminster, accompanied the plain hearse in two cars. A little later Naval ratings, Marines, Grenadier Guards, and a detachment from the Royal Air Force formed a hollow square in the frosty gloom of the parade ground. At a quarter to 11 the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York arrived, and the parade presented arms. Five minutes before the hour the procession began its slow and sombre march. There was still no lifting of the mist, and the trees of the Mall were dim shapes in the distance as the naval guard, with I arms reversed, moved towards them. The I massed bands of the Royal Marines, playing the funeral music from Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony, followed. Drums were covered with black crepe, but the white helmets and the uniforms of the bandsmen provided the one real note of colour in the procession. The coffin, covered with a Union Jack and with Lord Jellicoe's cocked hat and sword laid on the flag, had been placed on a gun-carriage, and this was drawn by a crew from H.M.S. Pembroke. On either side walked the pall bearers, officers of the highest rank. including representatives of the French and German Navies. They were as follows:- Adml. Sir S. Colvie Admi. Sir W. Goodcnough Adml. of the Fleet Admil. or the Flect Sir R. Tyrwhitt I Sir E. Chatfieldi Vice-Adml. urand-Viel v Vie-Adml. Foerster (French Navy) (German Navy) Adml. of the Fleet = Marshal of the R.A.F. Sir R. Keyes ' Sir J. Salmond F.?M. Lord Milne . Admil. Or the Fleet Sir 0. Brock Adml. of the Fleet Admi. of the Fleet Earl Beatty Sir H. Oliver

FIFTY ADMIRALS

Lord Jellicoe's son, who succeeds to his father's title, walked next, and then came the Prince of Wales, representing the King, and the Duke of York, both in naval uniform. The Prince, like Lord Beatty (who has been ill), wore a heavy cloak. The dead admiral's decorations and honours were carried on black cushions by naval officers. Ratings followed with a cross of Flanders poppies and - a large laurel wreath. Members of the Board of Admiralty, flag officers, and others of the Navy continued the procession. Admirals in uniform are not familiar figures in London, and to the crowd which watched more than 50 of them pass few were known by name, though there was recognition of their rank. Representa- tives of the Secretary for WmTar and of the Air Council came after the Naval officers, and then the Naval Attaches of all the nations represented at the Court of St. James's. A French Naval contingent with red- topped caps, which brought up the rear of the Naval detachments, attracted interested attention. Following these visitors were the Grenadier Guards-from whom each step of the slow march came as a rigidly coordinated crunch on the gravel-and the Royal Air Force con- tingent. Last of all in the long pro- cession marched the representatives of the British Legion, a typically democratic column, with men wearing silk hats, bowler hats, soft hats and caps, all met together as comrades of the War in a common tribute to a lost leader.

PAST NELSON'S COLUMN

The procession. after reaching the Mall, turned through the Admiralty Arch and passed across Trafalgar Square, imme- diately below the figure of Nelson, all but hidden in the overhead murk. The Square was hushed as the coffin went by, and a dense crowd stood bareheaded and motionless. On the Embankment the mist seemed to lie more coldly than any- where else, but here, as had been arranged, the pace of the march was quickened. From Northumberland Avenue to Black- friars the crowds made a human lane with men and women massed six and more deep, and all along the route the silence which was the salute of the people held without break. Officers and ratings of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve were assembled on the deck of H.M.S. President moored against the Embank- ment, and here a bugler sounded the stand to " as the procession passed. The steps of St. Paul's were lined with a detachment of men from the British Legion. Each bore a standard of the Legion, its headpiece draped with black crepe. W estward, beyond St. Paul's Churchyard, the line of the British Legion continued on each side of Ludgate Hill, a voluntary guard of men from many walks of life. At the end of Lord Jellicoe's last journey the route was thus lined with those to whom his last public work was dedicated. St. Paul's Churchyard was enclosed, and rettained a silent space. In Ludgate Hill great numbers of people stood along the pavements; New Bridge Street, too, became filled with waiting people. Shortly before half-past lI the Lord Mavor and Sheriffs arrived from the City, followed soon afterwards by Lady Jellicoe and a small group of family mourners. From the steps of St. Paul's the banners of the British Legion in Ludgate Hill were seen to dip. Slowly the funeral procession came in sight. In the grey mist the dark blue of the Naval guard that headed the procession was broken only by the glint of brass as wintry sunshine played on the butts of rifles carried in reverse. Then, as the soft music of the massed bands came nearer, the white helmets of the Royal Marines showed up in further relief. As the gun-carriage came to rest at the foot of the steps outside St. Paul's a party of naval ratings removed the coffin, draped in the Union Jack, and bore it through the great main doors into the Cathedral. Beside it walked the pall- bearers, followed by Lord Jellicoe's son, the Princes, representatives of the Services, and the rest of the great procession. Out- side there remained in the streets a still greater throng who had bared their heads in silent tribute as the coffin passed by.

LAST FAREWELL BURIAL AMONG GREAT SAILORS

Lord Jellicoe's burial place is in the crypt of St. Paul's with others of those great sailors whose exploits-as Stevenson wrote-" stir English blood like the sound of a trumpet." Nelson lies appropriately in the middle of them, exactly under the centre of the Dome; and directly above the tomb of Nelson there stood vesterday the high pedestal on which for a time the coffin of Jellicoe of Scapa was to rest. Six lighted candles stood round the pedestal. In the crypt below lay a great mass of wreaths of poppies and many other flowers, tributes to the dead Admiral's memory from his comrades of the Services, the British Legion, and others. With them was placed during the dav a wreath of crimson carnations from the ex-Kaiser, bearing gold initials "W. H." on a white ribbon. The wreath was brought from Holland by Prince Frederick of Prussia, son of the ex-Crown Prince of Germany. The ex-Kaiser had also sent a private telegram of sympathy to Lady Jellicoe.

SPIRIT OF CALM

The vast upper spaces of the Cathedral looked at first remote and aloof from all that was happening on the stone-flagged floor. But when organ music, -and later the pure voices of choristers, soared into those spaces and filled them, the fancied contrast between temporal sorrow below and the calm of eternal things overhead was banished. The dull gold and blue of naval uniforms stood out scarcely at all from the general plainness of the predominating dark civilian dress. Individual Guardsmen acting as ushers wore their red tunics, but the largest cluster of bright colour was introduced by the furred robes of the Lord Mayor and City Corporation. The Cathedral clergy and members of the choir in their v.hite surplices passed slowly along the nave to the West Door and there waited. A sudden burst of' music. Chopin's Funeral March, from massed bands outside, announced the opening of the great doors, and the Cathedral bells could be heard confusedly as a background. A cross, borne high in front of the returning choir and clergy, marked the head of the procession which brought Lord Jellicoe's coffin. The choir were singing "I am the resurrection and the life." The Bishops of London and Sheffield and the Dean of St. Paul's were among the clergy, and last of them all came the Archbishop of Canterbury, his train held by two boys. The coffin, wrapped in a mellowed Union Jack and surmounted by the dead Admiral's sword and hat, was set down on the catafalque in sight of all. The Prince of Wales, representing the King, took his place under the pulpit. The Duke of York stood opposite his brother, by the lectern. Statesmen, Ambassadors, high officers of the Services, both British, and foreign, were disposed near them. The young Lord Jellicoe and his mother, with other members of the family mourners, stopped beside the coffin. For 10 minutes the massed footfalls of arriving mourners continued. When all were in their places a congregation of 2,000 filled the Cathedral.

FAITHFUL TO A GREAT TRUST COURAGE AND CONFIDENCE

The service began with the consoling 23rd Psalm; the Archdeacon of London read the Lesson, "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth"; then the Archbishop of Canterbury gave his address. It conveyed to those who heard it an unexpectedly intimate picture of " the great and single-hearted sailor whom to-day the whole nation holds in honour." The Archbishop said:- To no nan could the thought of a funeral oration pronounced ovcr him have been more distasteful than to the great and single-hearted sailor whom to-day the whole nation holds in honour. Yct it has been dccmed fitting that some voice should try to express in a few sentences some at least of the thoughts, the mcmories, the emotions which are rising to-day in the hearts of his comrades and of his fellow- countrymen. This most difficult task has been entrusted to me, and I shall try to fulfil it with a simplicity like his own. It might have been more fitting that the task and the honour should have been given to one of his comrades in the great Service to which it was his life-long pride and joy to belong. Yet at this moment it is of the man himsclf rather than of his achievements that we think; and of the man himself I can dare to speak with the knowledge and affection of a friend. In the early days of the Great NVar, when the Grand Fleet which he laboured to create and which it was the crowning joy of his life to command lay hidden among the rocks and mists of the northern isles, it was my privilege to be his guest for many days on board his flagship. Night after night, sharing his room with him, I watched him at work. I seem to see him now, sitting at his desk, with nothing but a great map before him, receiving messages from all parts of the high seas and quietly writing and sending forth Iiis short, decisive answers. The experience left on me the ineffaceable impression of a man of steady courage, of imperturbable self-control. and of quiet and steadfast confidence. As da) by day I went among the ships in his command there was one unbroken testimony given: that he had made his comrades of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest, a band of brothcrs, bound together by an absolute confidence in his leader- ship and by a. loyalty to him which had the warmth of love. This was the mnan on whom was laid IL vaster anid niore momentous responsibility than had ever been laid upon any Commander-in-Chief at any time in the long history of this nation. But his whole life had been a preparation for it. His courage had been tested by many trials. By diligent study he had mastered every detail oi his seaman's craft. He had pondered over all the problems of naval warfare. So when the awful moment camc to which Heaven had joined these great issues he was ready-as a man who "Through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made and sees what he foresaw." He accepted this tremendous responsibility simply as a trust committed to him by his King, his country, and his God. with no disturbing thought of self, but with the one single aim of doing his best to be faithful to it. The secret of this- quiet and unselfconscious confidence was, I kilow,'his-sjmple and manly faith in God, Who was ever in his remembrance, to Whom day by day he turned in prayer, and in Whom he found his strength and stay. So he passes from our sight. In a few tnomer.ts-bis body will be very fittinNly laid to rest within.a few.paces of the tomb of Nelson. Here, in the very heart of the Empire which he scrved and saved, there will remain an abiding memorial of a great sailor, a great Englishman, a great Christian. As for his spirit, can we doubt that it has passed to that higher scrvice in the etcrnal world where hc will see God's face Whom here he valiantly and humbly served ?

A RINGING APPEAL

So the Archbishop ended; and the spirit of his closing words was caught up and amplified by the voices 'that sang Cecil Spring-Rice's hymn, " I vow to thee, my country." Led by the Bishop of Sheffield, the clergy moved from the chancel and gathered round the narrow opening in front of the catafalque which communi- cates with the crypt and bearers laid the coffin on the platform now filling this opening. The words of committal were spoken by the Bishop of Sheffield. A few crumbs of earth were let fall on the coffin, which. slowly passed below. After prayers, spoken by the Dean. the congregation joined in the dead Admiral's favourite hymn, " Eternal Father, strong to save." All knelt to receive the Blessing from the Archbishop.. When they rose to their feet bugle notes rang out high over- head. Never, it seemed, could Last Post and Reveille have been sounded'with more ringing appeal than by these hidden buglers of the Royal Marines against echoing silence. The service over, first the Prince of Wales and then his brother stepped forward and spoke with Lady Jellicoe and her son.