I did not concern myself overmuch with Her Late Maj’s obsekwies. Some fool poets had writ lamentations, but not that villain Snakes-Purr.
There was none to write the poem for him, I guess.
Oh, I had much to think on, and revengeous plans to make.
Mr Secretary Cecil was making plans, too. He’d gone to greet King James, and invite him to his brother’s house, and to his own house of Tibbles [Theobalds].
Why? Was Mr Secretary keeping the King close? Or was there much to be spake of for the coming of our new Queen and the crowning? The King and Queen were to be crowned together.
Some of Her Late Maj’s jewels, coaches, horses and the like were dispatched to the new Queen so she could look right well. And the Pretty Penny, sister to the late Earl of Essex, was arrkst to be among those who would join her when she came into England.
Came the day I heared a great buzz in the streets, and I followed others of mine household onto our leads [roof].
I never before saw the streets and river so throng. A multitude was coming from the city. They were going westwards to White-Hall.
Yes. At last Her Late Maj was to be put in her grave
Then I glimpsed something wonderful. A lean grey cat came over our wall, ran swift across our yard, and into the garden of the house that lay next us.
Another soon followed. And I swear that she glanced up at our house as she passed. Both were gone in a trice, but I knew them for the same two that came nigh unto the Tower and seemed to be seeking me.
My friends? I loitered on our roof praying for their return.
Instead, there came from the west a groaning so great that I thought the world was coming to its end.
It was a wauling raised by the multitude when they beheld (or nosed) Her Late Maj being conveyed from White-Hall to the church where she was to be stowed away [Westminster Abbey].
Any cat nigh would have fled on the instant. Small wonder I never saw my lank grey friends again that day.
But when I did make their akwayntance they had newes that set mine ears afire. They told me they had found that villain Snakes-Purr!
A more respectful account of Elizabeth’s funeral comes from John Stowe. “The 28 day of Aprile being her funerall … the cittie of Westminster was surcharged with multitudes of all sorts of people in their streets, houses, windows, leads and gutters, that came to see the obsequie, and when they beheld her statue or picture lying upon the coffin set forth in Royall Robes, having a Crowne upon the head … and a ball and sceptre in either hand, there was such a general sighing, groning, and weeping as the like has not been seene and knowen in the memorie of man…”[1]
Westminster Abbey has a restored version of the effigy of Elizabeth, with the original corset.
The coffin, draped in purple velvet, was on a carriage drawn by four great horses with black velvet trappings. The black-clad mourners were estimated at about 1,600. That may be an exaggeration, but the procession was long.
Led by the Knight Marshall’s men “to clear the way”, and interspersed by standard bearers, heralds, trumpeters etc, the lowest came first: 15 poor men, and 260 poor women. Then a riderless horse with a black cover, and the servants of Elizabeth’s household in reverse rank order. Among the full list (by occupation, not name) are the children of the woodyard and the scullery, a variety of grooms, porters, yeomen, clerks, then office holders such as chaplains and physicians, and senior administrators.
Next were the judiciary, councillors, male members of the nobility (those who weren’t carrying banners or escorting the coffin), senior clergy, and ambassadors. Then the coffin, and the palfrey of honour (riderless, led by the Earl of Worcester). Last came the high-ranking female mourners in their normal order of precedence.
The Marchioness of Northampton was chief mourner, followed by countesses, baronesses, and the maids of honour. The Palace guard brought up the rear, their weapons reversed.[2]
Unfortunately, Harry doesn’t tell us whether or not his Earl’s mother, the dowager Countess of Southampton, and Bess Vernon, the young Countess, were among the mourners. My guess would be the elder was, and perhaps the younger as well.
After the funeral the select few ladies who’d been invited to join Queen Anne left for Berwick-on-Tweed near the Scottish border. Most, however, including Bess Vernon, did not meet her until she was near London.
Sir Robert Cecil must have been extraordinarily busy. On 18 April he was with the King in York, still working out the timing for James’ entry into London. It wouldn’t have done for James to arrive on or close to the day of the funeral. A proper reception was necessary.
Cecil seems to have wanted to keep James and his courtiers in a holding pattern, via Burghley House at Stamford (where the Earl of Southampton presented himself on 25 April) and then at his own house (Theobalds) where members of the Privy Council could join the King after the funeral.
Queen Anne’s departure from Edinburgh was scheduled for mid-May, so she could reach London by end June in good time for the coronation on 25 July 1603. Her departure did not go according to plan. See Anne’s Wikipedia entry.
The amount of organisation required for a royal funeral, two royal progresses, and a coronation within the space of four months is mind-boggling.
[1] John Stow The Annales, or general chronicle of England… (1615) p.815
[2] The Order of the Procession is printed in John Nichols’ Progresses and public processions of Queen Elizabeth…Vol III (1823) pp 620-626.
The Earl of Southampton's Cat 
Tibbles 🙂
I’m glad to see that Sir Robert was kept busy after the queen’s death. He was probably relieved that he finally had a monarch who already had heirs of his body.
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King James, a smarter man than he’s often given credit for being, would have been equally relieved to see what a brilliant Principal Secretary he had in Sir Robert.
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Yes, I don’t know why we’re ‘taught’ that he wasn’t terribly clever or perceptive. He wrote learned treatises and had the wit to retain Sir Robert.
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I suspect it’s because a lot of the groundwork for modern historical study was done by 19th century historians. Their research efforts were remarkable, but they did have a tendency to put historical figures they approved of on pedestals, and to denigrate the ones they disapproved of.
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They disapproved of Edward III as well. The Victorians have a lot to answer for with regard to our understanding of history.
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They’re not alone in their eagerness to impose their own values on the past. See this excitable-looking plug for a programme on BBC4. Shock! Horror! A story has been uncovered! https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0bdvxzn
Yes, it’s about young Thomas Clifton’s abduction on his way to school, and it’s not a story that takes much uncovering. The sources I used for post 148 are old and well-known.
I can’t play the programme here, so I may be being unfair, but I’ve noticed a recent trend where historians who seek to appeal to the popular market are pursuing anything that smacks of what we would regard as child abuse without any reminders of how different attitudes to children were.
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I’ll give it a look. There are four days left for me to watch it. I’ve also noticed the tendency to announce things as ‘discovered’, ‘unveiled’, and ‘uncovered’. Sometimes I wonder what these professional historians have been doing if they haven’t come across the events before.
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Thanks! I suppose the “discoveries” are all about competing for attention in the marketplace.
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True, but it’s a bit of a losing game if your audience already knows more than you’re going to tell them.
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Fascinating! As you say in your footnote, it was a massive task organising back to back funeral and coronation. Especially without the communication and transport networks we have today.
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Exactly!
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Could this mean trouble for Snakes-Purr, I wonder?
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Picker and Stealer always mean trouble.
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Another Fabulous story-telling! (@—>—)
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Thanks!
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I watched the programme about the abduction of Thomas Clifford. I was ready to give up at the halfway mark, but persisted. It was very sensational. There were some good moments, though. The first was seeing inside the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, a ‘copy’ of the Blackfriars Theatre. It’s rather lovely. The second was right at the end, when the presenter said that we’re mistaken if we think that the people of the past were just like us, although I think she meant that we’re somehow better, whereas I always think that we’re just different.
It was far too sensational for me. There was a lot of supposition, which I don’t necessarily mind if there’s some evidence to steer you in that direction, but this was all on the basis of modern sensibility. There was an early statement that Elizabeth I connived at the abduction of children from the streets of London. Although it went on to talk about the warrant to take children for the choir, it didn’t really make it clear that it didn’t mean that the holders of the warrant could just take any child they wanted from the streets.
One of the interesting things was that it showed male pupils at the grammar school in Stratford, where they still put on Jacobean plays with boy actors. They were pretty good.
You would have learned nothing, since you’ve already provided more information than was available in the programme.
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Many thanks for that, April. And thanks for sticking with the programme. It sounds pretty much as I expected. I’ve never seen the interior of the Sam Wanamaker playhouse (though Luvvie’s determination to stay in Blackfriars said much for its theatre.) I’ve read of Edward’s Boys on a couple of other blogs I follow – apparently some of their plays are available on DVD, something I’ll check out in the future. Full marks to them for bringing some of the other talented playwrights of the time to the fore.
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