concealing the figure. There was no longer
rouge upon the white, sunken cheeks; but
there were the commanding profile, the
strongly-arched eye-brows; the expression
was rather that of astonishment, than of
repose. Around the room knelt the ladies of her
court, enveloped in long black crape veils, and
a number of gentlemen in uniforms. On one
side of the chamber stood an altar, where at
various times in the day mass was celebrated.

The Duchess is said to have been remarkably
handsome in her youth; according to a
popular belief, the peasants in Italy had
knelt before her and prayed, believing she
was the Madonna.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, a few
days later, the funeral took place. I went to
a house in the Theatine Strasse, up which
street the procession was to pass. Already,
at two o'clock, whilst I was at the Studio, I
heard the bells tolling from all the churches
in the city; but the bells here toll in a much
less mournful manner than in England. As
I crossed the Odean Platz, at the corner of
which is the Leuchtenburg Palace, I saw a
number of soldiers in white and blue uniforms
drawn up on horseback before the palace.
Beside the Theatine Church door stood a
knot of priests, with a tall crimson banner.
Foot soldiers were drawing up in line on
either side the Theatine Street. My friends
the G.s, to whose house I now betook myself,
live just opposite to the house of the Russian
Ambassador, which is a handsome old house;
in fact, the whole of the Theatine Strasse is
very picturesque, being one of the old streets
of Munich; and this added considerably to
the effect of the procession as it approached.

Of course, a dense crowd lined the street,
standing as close as possible behind the hedge of
soldiers which guarded either side of the space
left open for the funeral train. Of course, too,
all the windows were crowded. In the window
of the principal etageof the Ambassador's house
was a group of ladies, in deep mourning.
Opposite to us, in another house, we recognised the
Rembrandt head, beard, and cap of the Greek
Patriarch. But now our attention was fixed
upon the advancing funeral procession. First
appeared a long train of the servants of the
nobility, bearing torches. There were liveries
of every colour and cut; there was a gigantic
Hungarian, in a dress of scarlet, light-blue,
and silver lace, and wearing a huge cap,
decorated with a tall, stiff feather; there were
the servants of King Max, of King Ludwig,
and of the various other royal and ducal
establishments here; there were the servants
of the old dead Duchess, wearing crape round
their arms, and streaming from their cocked-
hats; and the smoke from their many torches
hung above this train of retainers like a sad
black funeral veil. Next came the different
Brotherhoods attached to the churches, who
always make such a capital show in the
processions here; the old men bareheaded,
monotonously chanting, and following their
banners and crucifixes borne by boys, clothed
in the same colour as the banners and crucifix-
canopies–scarlet, blue, amber, violet, green,
and russet. The scene was rendered gay to
the eye by the brilliant hues, but mournful
to the imagination by the monotonous murmur
of the old men. These Brotherhoods were
followed in equal numbers by trains of priests,
attired in robes of black and white, many of
them singing, and preceded by crucifixes.
There was the little band of the Franciscan
Friars, who had put on short white linen
robes above their brown frocks, their
picturesque brown hoods hanging over the white
linen; there were also the priests of the Hof
Kapelle, with broad violet ribbons round their
necks, to which was suspended a small cross
of gold. Violet and scarlet attired priests
preceded the Archbishop, who slowly moved
along, a white mitre upon his head, a rich
silver crosier in his hand, and his robes
supported on either side by a priest, himself a
mass of golden embroidery. And now,
surrounded by court-pages dressed in white and
blue, came on the hearse; the coffin lay—
covered with a black velvet pall, emblazoned
with the Leuchteuburg arms—upon a throne,
beneath a black velvet canopy. Lions shrouded
in crape watched the royal dead at the foot of
the throne; diamond stars and orders glittered
upon the coffin. The funeral car was drawn
by six beautiful horses belonging to the
Duchess, all richly caparisoned in gold and
black trappings, and was driven by her old
coachman. Bystanders relate that the old
man looked greatly affected at thus, for the
last time, conducting his mistress through the
streets of Munich. They relate, also, that
among the mourners who immediately followed
the hearse, the brother of the Duchess, Prince
Carl, who walked bareheaded between two of
the young Princes, was a sad picture of grief:
for many years this brother and sister had
been in daily habits of the greatest intimacy,
and he now seemed to walk as in a fearful
dream. After the Royal mourners came
members of the Aristocracy, ambassadors from
foreign Courts, and the Officers of the Bavarian
army, the Professors of the University wearing
their robes, and the Corporation, also in their
robes, brought up the rear. Trumpets brayed
forth, and mingled shrilly with the sounds of
the muffled and crape-hung kettle-drums, as
the train slowly passed along; the soldiers
presenting arms to the corpse. And now the
rain began to fall.

Stragglingly and miserably did the
procession return through the wet streets, after
having laid to rest the mortal remains of the
Duchess beside the ashes of Eugène
Beauharnais, which are mouldering away in the
vaults of the dusky St. Michael's Church. The
joyous music into which the military bands
burst as they returned, seemed only, by
contrast, to render the scene more miserable.
Thus was laid in the dust one of the grandees
of the earth.