NAPLES, Aug. 8.—In a vault at Canessa, close to the heart of his beloved Naples, Enrico Caruso sleeps his eternal sleep: “Now I can rest,” were his last words, and the faint smile that was on his lips as he uttered them remained after the spirit had flown. The countless persons who passed his bier before the cortège brought him to the cemetery, saw the smile, and hundreds among them wept.

No such regal but heart-felt funeral as that on Thursday for Enrico Caruso is found recorded in all the long history of Naples. The sorrowing city was a living threnody for its illustrious dead. No king went to his grave attended by such a lament as that which welled forth for this mechanic’s son. In death, even more than in life, Caruso seemed to sum up the very essence of what the world knows as Neapolitan.

By the express direction of King Victor Emmanuel, the obsequies were held in the magnificent Royal Basilica of the Church of San Francisco di Paolo, which belongs to the royal house. Caruso was the first untitled person for whom services ever were held in the Basilica. Erected by King Ferdinand I in fulfillment of a vow, as a replica of the Pantheon of Rome, its associations are of the most kingly. For this day of world-wide sorrow, it was draped in black and gold tapestries, some of them royal treasures of the vanished kings of Naples.

IN the center of the Basilica was an imposing catafalque, on which a crystal coffin, bearing the tenor’s body, was laid. All about was black velvet and gold in a bower of flowers. Outside the edifice nearly 50,000 persons were massed in reverential homage. Inside, representatives of the King and the royal family, of the Italian Government, the municipality, the prefecture, and foreign governments were congregated. The United States was represented by consular officials, and there was a large wreath inscribed as from the City of New York, of which the departed idol was an honorary citizen.

The grief-stricken widow, leading little Gloria by the hand, took a last look at the peaceful face, just before the public was admitted, and left a wreath of roses beside the bier. More demonstrative was the tenor’s brother, Giovanni Caruso, who prayed that some miracle would restore Enrico to life, and who called on the silent lips to speak once more. The tenor’s son, Rodolfo, was shaken with grief.

CARUSO was committed to his Maker with a solemn and very impressive high requiem mass. Participating were singers of high place in the world of music. The chorus numbered 400 voices, and occupied a specially constructed platform. The great orchestra of the San Carlo Theater, where Caruso had sung in triumph during his operatic career, was directed by Giuseppe Baroni. The famous composer, Cilea, director of the Conservatory also volunteered his services. Paisiello’s Requiem was sung. In a solo passage, Giuseppe de Luca, Caruso’s fellow artist and very dear friend, struggled with an emotion that all but overwhelmed him, but he managed to finish, while throughout the building came the sound of stifled sobs. Titta Ruffo was among the world notables there. He had assisted in the removal of the body to the church, and was in tears for his friend.

The throng outside could hear little of the mortuary music, but remained quiet and bare-headed, waiting to pass the catafalque for a last farewell. Those who could reach it, knelt beside the bier in prayer.

THEN began the procession to Canessa. Encased in a wooden casket, the crystal coffin was drawn through the streets by six horses. The straining crowds pressed so eagerly forward that police and troops had to charge several times upon the throngs. Airplanes flew overhead. The procession was assembled in the Plaza Dante, and there representative men delivered eulogies. Homer M. Byington, the American consul at Naples, spoke for America, and dwelt upon the love which those who knew him had for Caruso the man.

Mounted squadrons of Municipal Guards in historic full dress uniforms and bearing medieval banners formed the van of the mourning marchers. Behind them came the Municipal Band of Naples, playing a funeral march. Representatives of the Municipal services of the city followed, the firemen carrying floral tributes. Groups of priests and Dominican and Franciscan monks with bowed heads followed a crucifix bearer. A great part of the enormous crowd at the Basilica joined in the march to the cemetery. There was a disgraceful quarrel among photographers and moving picture men regarding their claims to exclusive rights, but the populace never lost its reverential and sorrowed mien.

As it was 5 o’clock in the afternoon when the cortège left the Basilica, twilight was upon Canessa when the vault was sealed. Later, it is said, the body will be removed to ground reserved for “the illustrious dead,” and over the grave will be erected a marble monument, designed by the sculptor, Cifariello, who made a death mask of Caruso at the request of the widow.

THE municipality bore the expenses of the funeral. All business ceased during the services and until after the body was placed in the vault. The crowds wore badges of mourning. Before the removal of the body to the Basilica, which is not far from the Hotel Vesuvius, where Caruso died, the throngs which visited the hotel became so large that it was found necessary to remove the body from the death chamber to the hall of the hotel, which served as a chapel. It soon became a veritable flower garden. There the mortal form of Caruso lay, in immaculate evening dress, his face composed, and wearing, in the dim candle light, that faint smile with which he went forth into the unknowable.

Visitors from Rome, Milan, Venice, Florence and from abroad came to gaze on the immobile countenance that had been the very soul of mobility on the lyric stage. An early visitor was the American consul. Ambassador Richard Washburn Child, in the name of Amersddsica, sent from Rome a message to Mrs. Caruso, expressing “profound grief at your loss, which is a loss to the whole world.” “America,” his message continued, “feels as much as Italy the loss of him whose heart and voice were of gold. We are at your disposal for whatever can be done.”

FORMER Premier Nitti came to the city from his country place to pay his respects and pass by the bier. The Mayor and the municipal council of Naples took official action in commemorating the famous singer, whose death was deplored as an irreparable loss to Italian art.

In the Chamber of Deputies, the president, Signor de Nicola, in the name of the entire chamber, Dr. Capasso, professor of surgery in the University of Naples, Deputy Marco Rocco, and Signor Anile, under-secretary of Instruction, heaped encomiums on the beloved tenor. Signor Rosadi, under-secretary of Fine Arts, paid similar tribute in a telegram to Mrs. Caruso.

From high and low have come messages of condolence to the widow, whose fortitude has won for her the greatest admiration. The Italian queen sent a message of comfort and sympathy. So did the prime minister. President Millerand of France telegraphed an expression of his sorrow. Dowager Queen Alexandra of Great Britain communicated as follows: “Our hearts are profoundly grieved. With you and your people we regret the death of an artist who can never be replaced. Our sincere condolences in this hour of universal sorrow.”

IT is said that Mrs. Caruso intends to remain in Italy and bring little Gloria up as an Italian, in conformity with what would have been the father’s wish. She expects to visit America soon to settle matters pertaining to the estate, and to remove to Italy Caruso’s collections and other effects. She and others have related only a few additional details of Caruso’s last hours.

As he went to the operation the tenor said:

“I must get well, because I must return to the United States to fulfill my contract.”

Just before sinking into coma he said to his son. Rodolfo:

“I feel very ill. This time it will be difficult to escape.”

Later, as if in sleep, he murmured, “Now I can rest.” He never spoke again.

CARUSO sang-a little almost to the last, according to Professor Bastianelli, one of the medical men who attended him, even illustrating to the operating physicians how he burst a blood vessel in his throat in Brooklyn. The baritone, Montesanto, and the soprano, Hidalgo, who heard him try his voice not long ago at Sorrento, said the old glory of it was still there.

For Naples, the most affecting incident of its successive days of sorrow was when the aged stepmother of Caruso came to the hotel Tuesday morning, hoping to find the patient mending. “How is Enrico?” she asked of a friend who met her at the door. The friend, unable to answer, burst into tears. Understanding his silence, the aged woman was led upstairs, where the last flicker of Caruso’s life was being watched by those who knew it would soon be gone. The aged stepmother, racked with anguish, remained on her knees until the end, going over the same prayers again and again. The heart of Naples was in those prayers, and the Neapolitans feel a particularly keen sympathy for this greatly sorrowing woman, thus bereft at the very end of her days, and in her own grief epitomizing the grief of the world.