Unicorn Rampant (47 page)

It all turned out to be infinitely more difficult and frustrating than might have been anticipated, this mainly James's fault. For, although he so disliked funerals that he could not attend that of his wife, he nevertheless took all too great an interest in the proceedings from a distance, sending detailed instructions almost daily on how everything was to be done and who was to do what. And his requirements got more and more elaborate, and confusing, as time went on. And time did go on for, although, on his instructions, the Queen's body was brought from Hampton Court to Somerset or Denmark House a week after death, and there embalmed to lie in state, the funeral itself kept getting put off, as ever more ambitious ceremonial was devised; this partly on account of the planning having to be continually changed, but mainly because there was no money to pay for all this flourish. For instance, there was the command that 280 poor women were to form part of the funeral procession, each given a suitable black shawl—where James got the figure of 280, no one could guess—and all the noble ladies in the cortege were to wear twelve yards of black broadcloth over their other clothing, and countesses sixteen. So money was of the essence and parliament would pay for nothing. Although the Queen's personal estate was now being valued at £400,000, with debts of only £40,000 it would be long enough before the bereaved spouse could lay hands on much of that and Prince Charles already claiming his share.

Things got even worse when the King, tiring of
Theobalds outwith the hunting season, moved seventy miles further away to Newmarket for the horse-racing. John, for one, came to know that road, by Waltham and Bishops Stortford and Saffron Walden into Suffolk, all too well as the weeks passed.

In the end it was two and a half months after her death before the Queen was finally laid to rest, and in scarcely restful fashion, on 13 May, despite the inauspicious date. The funeral procession formed up outside Somerset House en route for Westminster Abbey, all in theory exactly as the latest commands had come from Newmarket. First of all was to ride the Captain of the Royal Guard, with a mounted troop of his men. Then a detachment of the Yeomen of the Guard from the Tower. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London—but not the other bishops, who were to march with the lords. The point was stressed that only the soldiers were to ride, all the rest to walk. Then came Garter King of Arms with his heralds, leading a choir of seventy singing boys chanting doleful music. There was then to be a suitable gap, whereafter would come the Prince of Wales, walking alone. Behind him would be the hearse, drawn by six matching black horses and bearing on top of the coffin an effigy of the Queen, in wax, made at great expense and splendidly dressed. It was hoped that the May sunlight would not melt the wax.

After the hearse would come the Queen's favourite riding-horse, led by her Master of the Horse—who had not had any horses to master for long, and this old beast now decrepit. Then was to follow the principal female mourner, supported by the
two most high-ranking nobles in
England—both Scots, as it happened, the Duke of Lennox and the Marquis of Hamilton. There had been great trouble over this matter, for in the absence of Elizabeth of Bohemia, the only princess, who had not returned to England, the Countesses of Arundel and Nottingham had fought a virulent war over their respective claims, oddly enough both of them wives of Howards in disgrace. Lady Arundel's husband would have been Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marshal and head of the house of Howard, had his father not been executed by Queen Elizabeth for allegedly conspiring to free the then captive Mary Queen of Scots and put her on Elizabeth's throne. His kinsman, the Earl of Nottingham, had then been appointed acting Earl Marshal and premier earl of England. So both ladies claimed seniority, but James, after much lobbying at long range, had come down in favour of Arundel, since at least her father-in-law had been a supporter of his own royal mother. Lady Nottingham, however, swathed in heavy broadcloth like the rest, stalked immediately behind, sniffing, and ignoring and being ignored by Steenie, Marquis of Buckingham at her side, dressed at his finest in pale blue satin.

There followed all the other court ladies under their weighty loads of material, most difficult to walk in; and then the ranked nobility and aristocracy of England—such as were not required at Newmarket—with an admixture of Scots amongst them, all in order of precedence, most difficult and time-consuming to arrange, with constant contests and claims to be sorted out, and people like John and Will Alexander charged with the task, all but at their wits end. The bishops were particularly awkward, with much dispute over dates as to the establishment of bishoprics. This section of the procession extended to almost a mile long in itself.

In nice juxtaposition came the 280 poor women, many already fortified for the long walk with ales and spirits and making a lot of noise. Then followed the Lord Mayor, sheriffs and aldermen of the City of London, prominent amongst whom was Alderman Cockayne, whom John was most careful to avoid. Then the representatives of the guilds and liveried companies. James had nominated next what he called 'a host of mean fellows', which was adapted to comprise the royal servants, minions of the lords and assorted churchmen below the rank of bishop.

Finally there came more of the Royal Guard and Yeomen, marking the official end of the procession—although a great assortment of the general public followed on thereafter, almost endlessly and in high spirits, for the Queen had ever been more popular than her husband, and considerably more generous.

This enormous concourse, over three miles of it, escorted James's Annie on her final earthly journey; and, since the distance from Somerset House to Westminster, by the King's defined route, was at least two miles, getting all there was a prolonged and confusing business to say the least, with John and the other marshals continuously hurrying up and down like sheep-dogs with a hopelessly unruly and outstretched flock, seeking to keep it moving at approximately the same pace throughout, preventing hold-ups and pile-ups, straggling, bunching and endless argument. The ladies in their trailing broadcloth particularly found the walk wearing, and few wore suitable footwear for the filthy streets, not being used to this mode of travel, so that much finery was sadly soiled before the Abbey was reached. The two horsed companies at front and rear proved to be a nuisance rather than any enhancement, being unable to proceed at the same pace as the pedestrians; so that those ahead soon disappeared while those behind over-ran the walkers, causing maximum disorder and all but a riot. The head of the procession was in fact almost two hours late in getting started, so that the tail would be much more so; and it was well past five o' clock in the afternoon before the leaders reached Westminster, in a state of exhaustion—although there had developed some hilarity and high jinks en route, by that time, thanks to the enterprise of sundry itinerant liquor-sellers who, having visualised conditions, paraded alongside the mourners shouting their wares.

As a consequence of all this, nobody was in a state for any lengthy obsequies—except perhaps the Dean of Westminster, who had not processed with the rest but met the cortege at the great west door of the Abbey, prepared to do well by the occasion. However George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury, who certainly had made the walk in his archiepiscopal splendour, now less splendid, was not slow to inform the Dean that brevity was now the order of service. The coffin, from under its effigy, was carried indoors theoretically on the shoulders of the Marquises of Hamilton and Buckingham and the Earls of Pembroke and Oxford, but the real weight was borne by underlings. At this stage, of course, most of the column was still over a mile away from the church and moving but slowly.

It was quickly agreed by the most authoritative, who of course were all at the front, that it would be highly inappropriate to wait endlessly for the riffraff to come up; and the Dean was given the order to commence forthwith. With ne
w arrivals crowding in all the t
ime, it did not greatly matter perhaps that he had to cut short his service drastically, since few could hear what he was saying anyway; and, when it came to the stage when Archbishop Abbot was to preach his sermon, with further processionists tramping in and objecting that they had not been waited for, he contented himself with a very few words of approximate eulogy— made easier for him by the fact that the ailing Queen had latterly been inclining ever more towards Catholicism, to Abbot's distinct disapproval. Indeed, after certain remonstrances from him, although they had hitherto been on good terms, she had refused him admission to her bedside.

So, with footsore mourners still arriving and the Abbey bells chiming six o'clock, all was expeditiously wound up, with an inaudible benediction, and the tide of mourning humanity put into prompt reverse—to considerable further chaos inevitably. Anne of Denmark and her effigy were left before the high altar, for the Dean, prebends and Knight Marshal to come and bury in Henry the Seventh's chapel at some convenient time later.

It was a pity that King James himself was not present to see and take part; undoubtedly he would have contrived to add much to the occasion.

Weary and bemused, John went back with his father to Whitehall rather than with Margaret to Wallingford House and the Buckinghams.

17

It was not really the paper-trade which got John back to Scotland that spring, but Will Alexander—or, rather, the King's insatiable need for siller, moneys, on this occasion channelled through Alexander. The especial need, this time, was to pay for Steenie's wedding, in which James was taking not only a profound interest but had agreed to pay for all—and George Villiers had ambitious ideas. The famous funeral was not fully paid for, as yet, so financial improvement was urgent; and all at court were besought, indeed commanded, to make suggestions on the raising of substantial funds. Various schemes were put forward, but most were either impracticable, risky or capable of producing only small sums. John's own proposal that a new supply of third-quality paper should be milled in Scotland for sale here in London—which really had been Woolcombe's earlier suggestion—came rather into that last category; it would take a considerable time to materialise, and, although it might perhaps double the moneys being received each month from the Merchant Venturers, this would certainly not be in time for the wedding, and even so would be only a few hundred pounds extra per cargo. Vastly greater sums were required.

Then Will Alexander came up with his scheme. The King had done quite well, many years before, out of his Plantation of Ulster, when he had sold off large areas of land in that part of Ireland, confiscated from the Catholic 'rebels', to colonists of Protestant origin, mainly from Scotland, who were further encouraged to make the risky purchase by being given hereditary knighthoods, or baronetcies, and so could call themselves sir and could also pass on the title to their heirs. This had been a great financial success—if not altogether so politically—but U
lster was not a very large
province and they had run out of land there. So no new Ulster baronetcies h
ad been created for years. Now,
Will asked, was there any reason why a similar scheme should not be established elsewhere—somewhere plenty of land was available?

James, intrigued, but doubtful, demanded where? All land, unfortunately, was owned by someone. He could not think of any reason for large-scale forfeitures at the moment.

Will had pointed out that this might not be necessary— if the land was overseas, where it would be owned only by heathen Indians, blackamoors and suchlike. The New World—that was where to look, where there was lots of land.

Still the King objected. The New World was already grasped as colonies, save for the most dire wildernesses, by Spain, France, the Dutch and the Portuguese. The English colony of Virginia was of little use—it was already parcelled out to settlers, who were not making all that much of it, unfortunately. Nobody was going to pay good money for land there.

Alexander had agreed, but said that he had been making enquiries. There was one territory, first discovered by the Cabots in 1497—so it should be English, for John Cabot went there under letters-patent from Henry the Seventh. But it had not been colonised. Later the French had laid claim to it—but they had done little more than name it Acadia and visit it occasionally, with no real settlement. This Acadia was composed of two great islands off the coast of French Canada, not mountainous and reputedly containing much good land suitable for cattle and crops, with excellent fishing-grounds around, and all lying empty. Now, if this was to be taken over by the crown, under Henry's letters-patent, and parcelled out to new proprietors at so much a time, with a baronetcy thrown in, much money could be made; for there was a hundred times and more the amount of land there than had been available in Ulster. Will had been talking to a shipmaster who had put in there more than once for water and fresh meats, and he was loud in his praise for the place.

James had been sufficiently impressed to order his Master of Requests to gain more information; and the more Will had unearthed, the better the prospects sounded. Acadia, all knowledgeable about the New World agreed, was a fair land, the natives friendly and not numerous, and the French doing nothing with it. So the King had agreed to a preliminary survey—not of Acadia itself but of the possibilities of the project being taken up, since it was the money he was interested in rather than any colonisation. But he was still cautious. He was not admittedly, presently on good terms with the French—which was part of his concern with the Spanish match, when the King of Spain's daughter would be old enough to wed Charles, the French and Spaniards being
at loggerheads as usual; but he
would not wish to provoke any outright hostilities with France on such a matter. So—he would make this, if it came to anything, a Scottish affair, which would allow him to disclaim responsibility, both to the French and, more important, to the English parliament, if trouble arose. A monarch had to consider such matters. Alexander, then, should go up to Scotland and sound out reaction. For this purpose they could call the place, not Acadia but New Scotland—or, since Latin was the more excellent tongue, Nova Scotia— and offer plots of land there at, say, 5,000 merks each for as many acres. No, make it 6,000 merks—which would sound better and even allow a little for Alexander himself on each sale made. And a title to go with it, to be sure. See how many would be prepared to invest. Some of these rich merchants and their sons? They need not actually go to Acadia, of course, so long as they paid. If there was a fair enough response they would set up the scheme forthwith— for the siller was needed promptly. When Will asked what authority he could quote for making such enquiries, he was told that he could, if he wished, call himself Lieutenant of New Scotland, or Nova Scotia, if that would help. And he could take Johnnie Stewart with him, to aid in this matter, and to see to the new paper project at the same time.