The Queen’s Coronation 60 years ago reflected a rapidly changing Britain and its role in world – as will the next monarch’s
The Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II was, above all, a religious occasion. The task of crowning the monarch falls to the First Primate of England
The new Queen Elizabeth II made only one minor error during her three-hour coronation, forgetting to curtsey with her Maids of Honour at the north pillar of Westminster Abbey. The 300 million watching on their TV sets probably did not notice, but one man did: the Archbishop of Canterbury, Geoffrey Fisher. Writing in his diary, he noted: “The Maids of Honour regretted it because they had taken so much time to get it just right, and I regretted it because from the Altar the sight of the Queen and the Maids of Honour curtseying was a very lovely one.”
Almost 60 years after that ceremony – the anniversary falls on Sunday – the Queen’s Coronation remains part of our popular memory, the great spectacle that ushered in the new Elizabethan age and set the tone for her reign. But what we are less familiar with is the actual nature of the occasion.
Above all, it was not a political occasion, but a religious one. Since the Norman Conquest, the task of crowning the monarch has usually been entrusted to the First Primate of All England. It is he who oversees the entire event, and performs the most symbolic of acts: the anointing and placing of the crown on the head. In this, the Established Church exercises its key constitutional function, legitimising the new monarch and uniting sovereign and people before God. Archbishop Fisher was adamant that 1953 should be no different.
In the build-up to the coronation, debate raged between modernisers (including the Duke of Edinburgh) and traditionalists. Many considered the ceremony an overblown, feudal display of limited meaning to modern Britain: “an ancient fabric which has suffered much from the work of ignorant builders,” according to one editorial in The Times. But Fisher, known as the “headmaster Archbishop”, was a stickler for tradition, and was determined to use the same Rite as had been performed for George VI in 1937. In Austerity Britain, the budget was naturally a concern, but the major issue was the involvement of the newly established Commonwealth, which then contained seven independent states, of many faiths.
There was talk of a separate ceremony in Westminster Hall, but Fisher dismissed such a notion. Another problem was the Homage, in which the clergy, peers and Royal family pay obeisance to their new sovereign. In an egalitarian age, was it right that the peers should represent the people? Clement Attlee thought not, suggesting that the Speaker of the Commons perform the duty on behalf of the “common man”. The lector theologiae at Westminster Abbey wanted to scrap the nobility, replacing them with the true powerbrokers of 1950s Britain – the barons of the press, trade unions and business.
The new Queen Elizabeth II made only one minor error during her three-hour coronation, forgetting to curtsey with her Maids of Honour at the north pillar of Westminster Abbey. The 300 million watching on their TV sets probably did not notice, but one man did: the Archbishop of Canterbury, Geoffrey Fisher. Writing in his diary, he noted: “The Maids of Honour regretted it because they had taken so much time to get it just right, and I regretted it because from the Altar the sight of the Queen and the Maids of Honour curtseying was a very lovely one.”
Almost 60 years after that ceremony – the anniversary falls on Sunday – the Queen’s Coronation remains part of our popular memory, the great spectacle that ushered in the new Elizabethan age and set the tone for her reign. But what we are less familiar with is the actual nature of the occasion.
Above all, it was not a political occasion, but a religious one. Since the Norman Conquest, the task of crowning the monarch has usually been entrusted to the First Primate of All England. It is he who oversees the entire event, and performs the most symbolic of acts: the anointing and placing of the crown on the head. In this, the Established Church exercises its key constitutional function, legitimising the new monarch and uniting sovereign and people before God. Archbishop Fisher was adamant that 1953 should be no different.
In the build-up to the coronation, debate raged between modernisers (including the Duke of Edinburgh) and traditionalists. Many considered the ceremony an overblown, feudal display of limited meaning to modern Britain: “an ancient fabric which has suffered much from the work of ignorant builders,” according to one editorial in The Times. But Fisher, known as the “headmaster Archbishop”, was a stickler for tradition, and was determined to use the same Rite as had been performed for George VI in 1937. In Austerity Britain, the budget was naturally a concern, but the major issue was the involvement of the newly established Commonwealth, which then contained seven independent states, of many faiths.
There was talk of a separate ceremony in Westminster Hall, but Fisher dismissed such a notion. Another problem was the Homage, in which the clergy, peers and Royal family pay obeisance to their new sovereign. In an egalitarian age, was it right that the peers should represent the people? Clement Attlee thought not, suggesting that the Speaker of the Commons perform the duty on behalf of the “common man”. The lector theologiae at Westminster Abbey wanted to scrap the nobility, replacing them with the true powerbrokers of 1950s Britain – the barons of the press, trade unions and business.
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