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canopy borne over it by four knights; followed by lady Eliza beth Stafford and all the maids of honour, and the queen's household, two and two, "dressed in their plainest gowns," or, according to another journal, "in the saddest and simplest attire they had, with threadden handkerchiefs hanging down and tied under their chins." The princess Katherine, led by her brother-in-law the earl of Surrey, then entered the chapel, and took her place at the head of the corpse: a true mourner was she, for she had lost her best friend and only protectress. When mass was done and offerings made, the princess retired. During the watch of the night, an officer-at-arms said, in a loud voice, a paternoster for the soul of the queen at every kyrie eleison, and at oremus before the collect.

On the twelfth day after the queen's death, mass was said in the chapel early in the morning. "Then the corpse was put in a carriage covered with black velvet, with a cross of white cloth of gold, very well fringed. And an image exactly representing the queen was placed in a chair above in her rich robes of state, her very rich crown on her head, her hair about her shoulders, her sceptre in her right hand, her fingers well garnished with rings and precious stones, and on every end of the chair sat a gentlewoman-usher kneeling on the coffin, which was in this manner drawn by six horses, trapped with black velvet, from the Tower to Westminster. On the fore-horses rode two chariotmen; and on the four others, four henchmen in black gowns. On the horses were lozenges with the queen's escutcheons; by every horse walked a person in a mourning hood. At each corner of the chair was a banner of Our Lady of the Assumption, of the Salutation, and of the Nativity, to show the queen died in child-bed; next, eight palfreys saddled with black velvet, bearing eight ladies of honour, who rode singly after the corpse in their slops and mantles; every horse led by a man on foot, bare-headed but in a mourning gown, followed by many lords. The lord mayor and citizens, all in mourning, brought up the rear, and at every door in the city a person stood bearing a torch. In Fenchurch and Cheapside were stationed groups of thirty-seven virgins,-the number corresponding with the queen's age, all dressed in white, wear

ing chaplets of white and green, and bearing lighted tapers. From Mark-lane to Temple-bar alone were 5000 torches, besides lights burning before all the parish churches, while processions of religious persons singing anthems and bearing crosses met the royal corpse from every fraternity in the city." The earl of Derby, the queen's old friend, led a procession of nobles, who met the funeral at Temple-bar. The abbots of Westminster and Bermondsey, in black copes and bearing censers, met and censed the corpse, and then preceded it to the churchyard of St. Margaret, Westminster. Here the body was removed from the car and carried into the abbey. It was placed on a grand hearse streaming with banners and banneroles, and covered with a "cloth of majesty," the valance fringed and wrought with the queen's motto, HUMBLE AND REVERENT, and garnished with her arms. All the ladies and lords in attendance retired to the queen's great chamber in Westminster-palace to supper. In the night, ladies, squires, and heralds watched the body in the abbey.

The next morning the remains of Elizabeth were committed to the grave; her sister Katherine attended as chief mourner. The queen's ladies offered thirty-seven palls, first kissing them, and then laying them on the body. Four of these palls were presented by her sisters, who were all present as mourners. A funeral sermon was preached by Fitzjames bishop of Rochester, from the text in Job,-Miseremini mei, miseremini mei, saltem vos amici mei, quia manus Domini tetigit me.' "These words," he said, "he spake in the name of England, on account of the great loss the country had sustained of that virtuous queen, her noble son the prince Arthur, and the archbishop of Canterbury." The palls were then removed from the coffin, the queen's effigy placed on St. Edward's shrine, and the ladies quitted the abbey. The prelates, with the king's chaplains, approached the hearse, and the grave was hallowed by the bishop of London: after the usual rites the body was placed in it.

Astrologers had been consulted that year on the queen's 1 « Have pity, have pity on me, my friends, for the hand of God hath touched me," being a passage from the 19th chapter of the book of Job, which chapter forms the eighth lesson read at matins at the service for the dead; or, as generally expressed, matins for the dead,' in the Catholic ritual.

behalf, and had predicted that all sorts of good fortune would befall her in 1503. Sir Thomas More wrote an elegy for the queen, in which, with his usual sagacity, he alludes at the same time to this circumstance, and to the folly and vanity of such divinations :

"Yet was I lately promised otherwise,

This year to live in weal and in delight;

Lo! to what cometh all thy blandishing promise,

O false astrology and divinitrice,

Of God's secrets vaunting thyself so wise!
How true for this year is thy prophecy?
The year yet lasteth, and lo! here I lie.

Adieu! mine own dear spouse, my worthy lord!
The faithful love, that did us both combine
In marriage and peaceable concord,
Into your hands here do I clean resign,
To be bestowed on your children and mine;
Erst were ye father, now must ye supply
The mother's part also, for here I lie.

Where are our castles now? where are our towers?
Goodly Richmond, soon art thou gone from me :
At Westminster, that costly work of yours,
Mine own dear lord, now shall I never see,
Almighty God vouchsafe to grant that ye,
For you and children' well may edify;
My palace builded is, for lo! now here I lie.
Farewell, my daughter, lady Margarete,
God wot full oft it grieved hath my mind
That ye should go where we might seldom meet;
Now I am gone, and have left you

behind.

O mortal folk! but we be very blind,
What we least fear full oft it is most nigh,
From you depart I first, for lo! now here I lie.

Farewell, madame!3 my lord's worthy mother;
Comfort your son, and be of good cheer,
Take all at worth, for it will be no other.
Farewell, my daughter Katharine !* late the phere
Unto prince Arthur, late my child so dear:
It booteth not for me to wail and cry,
Pray for my soul, for lo! now here I lie.

Adieu, lord Henry !5 loving son, adieu !
Our lord increase your honour and estate;
Adieu, my daughter Mary !6 bright of hue,

1 Henry the Seventh's chapel.

2 The young queen of Scots did not leave England till some months after her mother's death. 3 Margaret, countess of Richmond, who survived her. Katharine of Arragon: 'phere' means mate or consort.

Afterwards Henry VIII.

6 Princess Mary, her second daughter, celebrated for her beautiful complexion.

God make you virtuous, wise, and fortunate:
Adieu, sweetheart, my little daughter Kate!1
Thou shalt, sweet babe, such is thy destiny,
Thy mother never know, for lo! now here I lie.
Lady Cicely, lady Anne, and lady Katherine,
Farewell! my well-beloved sisters three.
Oh, lady Bridget !2 other sister mine,
Lo here the end of worldly vanity!
Now are you well who earthly folly flee,
And heavenly things do praise and magnify,
Farewell, and pray for me, for lo! now here I lie.
Adieu, my lords! adieu, my ladies all!
Adieu, my faithful servants every one!
Adieu, my commons! whom I never shall
See in this world: wherefore to Thee alone,
Immortal God, verily three in one,

I me commend; thy infinite mercy

Show to thy servant, for now here I lie!"

Henry VII. survived his consort seven years: his character deteriorated after her loss. The active beneficence and the ever-liberal hand of the royal Elizabeth had probably formed a counteracting influence to the avaricious propensities of Henry VII., since it was after her death he became notorious for his rapacity and miserly habits of hoarding money. A short time after her death, the king lost his two virtuous and fearless counsellors, sir Reginald Braye, his prime-minister, and the good bishop Norton, his chancellor, who did not scruple to reprove him if he felt inclined to commit an act of injustice." Henry VII. frequently entered into negotiations for a second marriage, and he appears to have been remarkably particular in the personal qualifications of a consort. It was not very easy to find one who could bear comparison with the beautiful heiress of the Plantagenets. Henry VII. died in the spring of 1509, like his ancestors worn down with premature old age, and was laid by the side of his queen in the magnificent chapel at Westminster-abbey which bears his name. The portraits of Henry VII. are well known; they have a singularly wasted and woful physiognomy, which excites surprise when compared with the extreme praises his contemporaries 1 The child whose birth cost the queen her life. As sir Thomas More mentions har as in existence, it is proof that the elegy was actually written when the queen died, as the infant survived the mother but a few weeks.

2 The nun-princess, Elizabeth's sister, who attended the funeral.

Hardyng's Continuation, p. 58.

bestowed on his beauty. The portraits were, however, chiefly taken from the cast of his face made after his death for the statue seen on his monument, therefore the sad expression is easily explained. Lady Braye possesses a portrait of this prince from the royal collection at Audley-End, in which he appears very comely, lively in expression, with his complexion bright and florid.'

The monument of Henry and Elizabeth, which occupies the centre of his noble chapel, is the work of Torregiano, who likewise cast the effigies of the royal pair reclining thereon. Elizabeth's statue is exquisitely designed, but its merits can scarcely be appreciated by those who are not empowered to have the bronze gates of the stately sepulchre unclosed, to gaze upon the divine composure of the royal matron's beauty, serene in death. The statue strikingly resembles the portraits of the queen, many of which remain. The sweet expression of the mouth and the harmony of the features agree well with the soft repose that pervades the whole figure. The propor tions are tall; the figure is about five feet six in length; yet is considerably less than the stature of the king, who must have been more than six feet in height.

On a little white marble table, let into the bronze frieze on the queen's left hand, is the following inscription, the Italian having very oddly mis-spelled the queen's name :—

"Hic jacet regina Hellisabect,
Edwardi IIII. quondam regis filia,
Edward V. regis nominati soror,
Henrici VII. olim regis conjunx,
Atque Henrici VIII. mater inclyta.
Obitt autem suum diem turri Londiniarum,
Die Febri 11, Anno Dom. 1502 [1503],
37 annorum etate functa."

1 In the chapter-house at Westminster is a splendid manuscript, containing the plan and description of his well-known chapel in the abbey. Henry VII. is depicted in miniature, perhaps too minutely for accurate resemblance: he is there fair in complexion, with yellow waving hair, different to all other representations.

2 Torregiano, the famous Italian sculptor, was employed by Henry VII. and Henry VIII. to construct the tomb and cast the statues: he received 1000 for his labour. He is the same person whom Benvenuto Cellini reviles for having in a passion broken the nose of Michael Angelo with a blow of his mallet. He was (after he left England) employed by Lorenzo de Medici; but his temper was so diabolical, that he quarrelled with every one.

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