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Source: Bell's Weekly Messenger, No.1827, Sunday, April 3, 1831.

Internment of the late Earl of Darnley

On Saturday last the funeral of this lamented noblemen took place, and was impressive from its very simplicity. Though a distinguished peer of the realm, there was nothing of the paraphernalia of rank or wealth apparent; no armorial bearings, no plumed pomp, no hearse, no carriage. It consisted of a foot procession, like the burial of a private individual. The coffin partook of the same chaste character, having neither crest nor coronet on it—nothing but a simple record of the name and title, the period of birth, and that of the death of its occupier. It was borne from Cobham Hall to the parish church, a distance of more than a mile, on the shoulders of his agricultural labourers, as his own desire, as expressed by him a few years ago, preceded by his principal household servants, several of the clergy of the vicinity, and his medical attendance, and followed first by his nearest relatives, among whom we noticed his daughter (the Lady Elizabeth Bligh), and his daughter-in-law (the Lady Clifton, now Countess of Darnley). The next in procession, many in number, and of great respectability, were the noble Earl's tenantry, who were followed by several magistrates and other gentlemen of the neighbourhood; the procession closed with the menial servants of the deceased. At the church, besides the usual service, a sermon was delivered at the chaplain of the noble lord, in the course of which he gave a portrait of his character as a husband, a father, a friend, a landlord, a master, and a Christian—a task for which he was eminently qualified, having, in his capacity of chaplain and as tutor to his two sons, been closely associated with his patron during half his life. Fortunately, however, as to most of the particulars enumerated, the character of Lord Darnley was well known to the generality of those who were present, and of the strangers there could not have been an individual, living at any distance, who had not heard of his virtues, both private and public, since for both he had long been universally lauded.