Film’s first royal funeral: how early filmmakers captured the procession for Queen Victoria

Royal pageantry has been a crucial function of film and television since its earliest days. The funeral of Queen Victoria, like that of the late Queen Elizabeth II, attracted the attention of the world. Processions and parades can be confusing to watch if we don’t understand the traditions and rituals, but what lies behind them can be fascinating.

The first major royal event to be filmed saw three million people lining the streets of London for Queen Victoria’s Jubilee procession in June 1897. It became a seminal event in the development of the one-year-old film business. Forty cameramen from 20 film companies took short films of the parade, which were then distributed all over the world. Many people’s first film would have been an actuality film of a piece of British royal pageantry. By 1901 the film industry had developed considerably and moving images had become embedded in our media culture. The idea that the Queen’s funeral would not be filmed and on screens for the public to see was inconceivable. 

Several films of Victoria’s funeral have survived the ravages of time and are preserved in the BFI National Archive. They are a rare and valuable socio-historical record. Of course, when they were originally shown in theatres, music halls or fairground shows, they would have had a narrator and music, so today we need to add a bit of context to explain and enliven the lines of passing people, carriages and troops – the kind of information you get today from TV commentators at similar events.

Illustrated newspapers published details of the route, just as they do today, and cameramen were positioned to capture footage at key points along the route as the Queen was brought from Osborne House in the Isle of Wight over the Solent to travel by train to Paddington. After resting in London the coffin was processed in full military style, on a gun carriage pulled by her eight cream-coloured horses, along a route through the capital to Victoria Station and on to Windsor.

The logistics of these huge public spectacles are incredibly complex – the British do them very well – but even the best laid plans are apt to go awry. Behind the scenes, out of view of the cameras, difficult situations may be being dealt with. Horses, for example, even the best trained ones, can be a random element.

Below is a film by British pioneering filmmaker Cecil Hepworth of the funeral procession of Queen Victoria taken at the entrance to Windsor Park. The procession was on its way to the chapel for the funeral before the Queen was to be interred with Prince Albert at the mausoleum she had built at nearby Frogmore. All looks very orderly and solemn and serene. The coffin is followed by the chief mourners on foot – we can see King Edward VII, the German Kaiser, the Duke of Connaught and Archduke Franz Ferdinand (yes, the one whose assassination sparked the First World War). 

But what you see on film is a mere 10 to 15 minutes after a really sticky moment during which the Queen’s coffin could easily have been upset, causing a nasty spat between army and navy officers, and a problem that needed instant, decisive action by the organisers. 

In what is now a tradition for state funerals, for the first time the monarch’s coffin was to be carried part way on a gun carriage pulled by sailors, or bluejackets as they were called then, from the Royal Navy. So on arrival at Windsor the coffin was remounted on the gun carriage. But the striking up of the drum roll for the Dead March, before the horses had been given their command to move, spooked the rear set of horses, who’d been left too long in the wintry weather. They reared and broke the traces, threatening to upset the carriage. 

For 10 minutes the procession was held back as they tried to improvise repairs. Prince Louis of Battenberg (that’s the father of Lord Mountbatten), who was a navy man, calmly suggested that the navy bluejackets could pull the gun carriage, sparking a furious row with the (army) commanders of the Royal Artillery. King Edward had to arbitrate swiftly and the gun carriage was hauled by the sailors, who formed in well-disciplined ranks with remarkable speed. 

The film bears this out. We can see them pass Hepworth’s camera as if this was all intentional. In this case the unthinkable didn’t occur and disaster was averted. The naval ratings earned the right to perform the same service for subsequent monarchs, including the late Queen Elizabeth II.