The day Papa became King, by Elizabeth, 11
Stumbling lords, flying sandwiches and that ‘horrible’ carriage trip... the Queen and her loyal subjects look back in wonder at a day they’ll never forget
The QUEEN has revealed that her preparation for her Coronation began at the age of 11, when her father asked her to write an account of his enthronement at Westminster Abbey in May 1937. In a rare conversation, she recalls her father, George VI, asking her to write down what she remembered of the day, describing the experience as ‘very valuable’.
In a BBC documentary due to be screened tonight, the Queen admits to Royal commentator Alastair Bruce that she has a better recall of her father’s Coronation than of her own. ‘I wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting there,’ she says.
her childhood account was written in a school exercise book – inscribed ‘To Mummy and Papa, In Memory of Their Coronation, From Lilibet. By herself’. It provides a detailed account of the day, from the moment she ‘leapt out of bed’ and concludes: ‘I thought it all very wonderful… The arches and beams at the top were covered with a sort of haze of wonder as Papa was crowned.’
Others, however, had a more frantic day. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Cosmo Lang, fretted about the regalia, not least as his assistant, the Dean of Westminster, was elderly and confused.
To make sure the St edward’s Crown was worn the right way round, the Archbishop attached two threads to the front. But they were removed by an overzealous cleaner and at the critical moment, the Dean handed it over backto-front. The Archbishop was left floundering – another annoyance for the King, who had seen one bishop treading on his train and another covering the Oath with his thumb.
The King wrote in his diary: ‘I never did know whether it was right or not.’
THE epitome of grace, dignity and tremendous majesty, Elizabeth II gave a display of composure at her 1953 Coronation that entranced the nation – a solemn and deeply religious ceremony that the young Queen regarded as the start of her life as sovereign.
To the 300 million viewers of what would prove the first globally televised event, which took place 65 years ago this summer, it was a triumph of organisation and planning.
Yet as the Queen discloses to Royal commentator Alastair Bruce in a wry – and extremely rare – conversation to be screened on BBC1 tonight, events did not always run smoothly, not least the bone-jarring ride in a golden coach from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey that she describes as ‘horrible’.
She recalls, too, how she was almost brought to a standstill when her heavy ceremonial robes caught on the thick carpets laid in the Abbey. Indeed, for all the undoubted majesty of the occasion, there was a great deal more that did not go to plan in the three-hour ceremony.
The Garter Knights were clumsy with the canopy for the Anointing, for example, and the odd pack of sandwiches fell out of coronets as peers put them on, and at the homage, the 25th Lord Mowbray, Segrave and Stourton stumbled as he walked backwards.
When the Archbishop of Canterbury, Geoffrey Fisher, later described him to the Queen as ‘the comic piece in the whole proceedings,’ she agreed, adding: ‘With mothballs and pieces of ermine flying in all directions.’
Iain Tennant, a Scottish businessman and trusted friend of the Royal Family, served as an usher at the ceremony but suffered a wardrobe malfunction. As he sat down on the steps by the choir stalls, he split his trousers up the back. A nearby peeress said: ‘If you want a needle and thread, I have one in my coronet.’
Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone, shared her carriage with Princess Marie Louise, who had been desperately thirsty and poured herself a generous glass of water from a flask and quaffed it down just before they left the Abbey.
Unfortunately, it was neat gin and went straight to her head. On the drive back, she nearly fell out of the coach and her tiara slipped as she leaned out of the window.
That the event went as smoothly as it did was perhaps thanks in part to the 16-month delay between the death of George VI at the age of 56 and his daughter’s Coronation to allow for a period of mourning. There was plenty of time for planning. Would divorced peers be summoned, for example?
That question was answered by the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl Marshal: ‘Of course. This is a coronation, not Royal Ascot.’
A more difficult question was the role that Prince Philip would play. The Queen was determined to include her consort as much as possible and he was appointed to chair the Coronation Commission – though the real power was left in the hands of the Duke of Norfolk.
Should the Queen curtsey when presented to the people seated on each of the four sides of the Abbey? Prince Philip thought not, saying: ‘You ought not to curtsey to your subjects.’ However, the Queen said she had already done so at the Opening of Parliament. In the end, the four half-curtseys were among the most graceful and moving moments of the Coronation.
The issue of televising the service preoccupied everyone for months. Initially the Queen and her advisers were against it, on the grounds it would put her under additional strain and that any mistakes or undignified behaviour would be seen by millions and could not be censored. Then there were the problem of how to squeeze 8,000 guests into the Abbey. For six months beforehand it was closed as workmen laid a railway track down the centre to bring in tons of wood and steel to create seating areas for guests, the orchestra and choir.
The most notable omission from the guest list was the Duke of
‘As an usher sat down his trousers split’
Windsor, who had abdicated the throne only 16 years earlier.
Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill insisted his presence was inappropriate and the Windsors were left to watch the Coronation on television in Paris.