ve just
received your very kind letter, and I daresay the volume will very
speedily reach me.... One thing I fear you do not come down late enough
to relate. I mean the impression made upon all present when I took you
to the Tuileries; and when the name of Cochrane, so well known to them
(and which I cannot bring myself to change for your present title), was
no sooner heard than there was a general start and shudder. I remember
saying, as we drove away, that it ought to satisfy you as to your
disappointment at Basque Roads; and you answered that you would rather
have had the ships."

That his mind was full of vigour to the last is best proved by that
autobiography. But the body was worn out. After two years of great
physical suffering, passed in the house of his eldest son at Queen's
Gate, Kensington, he died on the 31st of October, 1860, eighty-five
years old.

He was buried in Westminster Abbey, where in his last moments he had
expressed a desire to rest, in company with other great servants of the
nation. A public funeral was not granted to him; but his son was
permitted to conduct that funeral in a way worthy of his great
reputation, and agreeable to the wishes of all classes of his
countrymen. Through the personal intervention of her most gracious
Majesty and the Prince Consort, moreover, who counteracted the efforts
of subordinates, his insignia of the Order of the Bath, which had been
ignominiously spurned from King Henry the Seventh's chapel,
one-and-fifty years before, were restored to their place on the 13th of
November. Thus his last and most cherished wish was fulfilled, and
another precious boon was added to the many favours for which his family
can never cease to be grateful to their Sovereign and her noble husband.

The burial was on the 14th of November. The pall-bearers were Admiral
Sir George Seymour, the Brazilian Minister, Admiral Grenfell--who
five-and-thirty years before had been associated with Lord Dundonald in
securing the independence of Brazil--Captain Goldsmith, Captain
Schomberg, Captain Hay, and Captain Nolloth. Among the mourners was Lord
Brougham, who had come from Paris to render this last honour to one who
had been his friend through fifty years. Standing over the grave, and
looking round upon the assemblage, he exclaimed, "No Cabinet minister
here! no officer of State to grace this great man's funeral!" But the
funeral was graced by the reverent homage of hundreds