The Constable of the Tower by W. Harrison Ainsworth

Beneath this stately catafalque lay the sepulchre, into which the royal corpse was ere long to be lowered by means of an apparatus somewhat resembling that now common to our cemeteries. In this vault was already deposited the once lovely Jane Seymour, by whose side Henry had directed his remains to be laid. Here also, at a later period, was placed the body of the martyred Charles I.

By his will, Henry had given particular directions that he should be interred in the choir of Saint George’s Chapel, “midway between the state and the high altar,” enjoining his executors to prepare an honorable tomb for his bones to rest in, “with a fair grate about it, in which tomb we will that the bones and body of our true and loving wife, Queen Jane, be put also.” Thus much of his instructions were fulfilled, but he desired more than any executor could achieve. “We will and ordain,” he appointed, “that a convenient altar be there honorably prepared, and apparelled with all manner of things requisite and necessary for daily masses, there to be said perpetually, while the world shall endure.”

While the world shall endure! Alas for the vanity of human designs! Who heeds that flat now? Who now says daily masses for Henry’s soul?

Moreover, full instructions were left by the king for the erection of a most magnificent monument to himself and his third, and best-loved consort, Jane Seymour, within the mausoleum so lavishly embellished by Cardinal Wolsey. On the white marble base of this monument, which was intended to be nearly thirty feet high, and adorned with one hundred and thirty-four statues and forty-four bas-reliefs, were to be placed two black touchstone tombs, supporting recumbent figures of the king and queen, not as dead but sleeping, while their epitaphs were to be inscribed in gold letters beneath.

Vain injunction! the splendidly-conceived monument was not even commenced.

To resume. All being arranged within the choir, and the thousand great tapers around the catafalque lighted, the effigy of the king was first brought in at the western door of the church by the three gigantic warders, and conveyed by them to the choir; after which, the coffin was carried by tall yeomen of the guard down the alley reserved for its passage, the canopy being borne by six lords, The Bishop of Winchester, with other mitred prelates in their copes, marched before it to its receptacle, wherein it was reverently deposited. This done, it was covered with two palls, the first being of black velvet, with a white satin cross upon it, and the other of rich cloth of tissue. The effigy was then set upon the outer pall.

No sooner had the funeral car quitted its station at the western door of the church than the procession, which had been previously marshalled in the Horseshoe Cloisters, began to stream into the sacred edifice. After a throng of knights, bannerets, barons, viscounts, earls, and ambassadors, came the Archbishop of Canterbury in his full robes, and attended by his crosses. After him marched the mourners, two and two, with their hoods over their heads, followed by the chief mourner, who in his turn was followed by Garter in the king’s gown, the train of the latter being borne by Sir Anthony Wingfield, vice-chamberlain. On reaching the catafalque, the mourners took up their customary places beside it.

Meanwhile, the Bishop of Winchester, on whom, as chief prelate, devolved the performance of the sacred offices, had stationed himself at the high altar, on either side whereon stood the rest of the bishops. The council, with the lord protector at its head, and immediately behind him the lord chancellor, now entered the choir, and seated themselves on either side of it, the Archbishop of Canterbury occupying a place nearest the high altar.

The four saints having been set, one at each corner of the catafalque, the Lord Talbot, with the embroidered banner, took a place at his foot. Before him was the standard of the Lion, on the right, the Dragon, and on the left, the Greyhound. A multitude of other bearers of banners were grouped around the receptacle of the coffin.

At this juncture, a movement was heard in the gallery above, and the queen-dowager, preceded by two gentlemen ushers, entered the royal closet. Attired in black velvet, and bearing other external symbols of woe, Catherine looked somewhat pale, but bore no traces of deep affliction in her countenance. She was attended by the Marchioness of Dorset and her daughter, the lady Jane Grey, the Countess of Hertford, Lady Herbert, and other ladies and gentlewomen, all in deep mourning. Behind appeared a throng of ambassadors and other strangers of distinction. But neither the Princess Mary nor the Princess Elizabeth was present. Moreover, as will have been remarked, the youthful king took no part in the funeral ceremony.