<em>The anointing and crowning of King Charles III was a deeply religious event.</em>
As an Officer of Arms I had the privilege (and duty) of attending the Coronation of the King. Heralds have taken part in coronations for over 500 years, wearing their armorial tabards and leading the royal procession into Westminster Abbey before flanking the Lantern, facing the Sacrarium where the most solemn parts of the ceremony take place. Such an event includes early starts, much hanging around, and now – alas – obtrusive security. But it is still an extraordinary experience to impersonate a medieval manuscript, standing in the same place as one’s 15th-century predecessors against the 13th-century Purbeck columns. Waiting in the cloisters, there was much to see and talk about.
Lord Chartres, swathed in the shining blue mantle of the Royal Victorian Order, allowed me to inspect the Queen’s coronation ring. We admired the gold maces borne by the Serjeants-at-Arms, who explained their absence from the Accession Proclamation last September: somebody for- got to instruct them to attend. It was a serious mistake, as the maces symbolise the Royal Authority at the head of the British constitut-ion. The new Cross of Wales (made to a Celtic design under the King’s eye) contained the relics of the True Cross given by the Pope as if to Pepin, King of the Franks, in the Middle Ages. There was a strong Catholic presence, too; not just Cardinal Nichols, but the new nuncio and the Pope’s legate – the first to England (as opposed to the English Catholic church) since 1520.
As we prepared to go in, it was amusing to see the tapers lit with a cigarette lighter. Close up, the visual splendour of the service was overwhelming. The music inhabited the Gothic architecture and almost seemed an organic part of it. Though modified, the coronation service remains the most Catholic liturgy in the Church of England, which makes it easy for a Catholic to follow. The anointing, presentation of the regalia, crowning, enthronement and homage sit right at its very heart. To an unusual extent this coronation was planned by the King himself. He chose the music and flowers, and put a personal stamp on the liturgy and prayers – within the ancient sacred framework of Richard II’s Liber Regalis. It was therefore extraordinarily personal to watch his reactions, including his evident emotion at the Homage of the Prince of Wales. It was a real, religious service and not a cold public event; it reflected the King’s strong personal and sacral faith. Unlike previous coronations much of the organisation was done by the Abbey clergy. The Precentor, the Revd Mark Birch, rather than the Earl Marshal, directed the rehearsals. To him is due the seamless perfection of the day, and the tasteful vestments.
The innovative anointing screen was entirely the King’s own idea. I was worried it would not work, but it was put into place by young guardsmen, evocative of the bearer party at Queen Elizabeth’s funeral. It evoked an elegiac note, and was presumably inspired by the iconostasis in an Eastern church: a reflection of the King’s strong interest in Orthodox religion, which was manifested in the incorporation of a Greek chant in the service. The consecration of the anointing oil by the Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem, on the Mount of Olives, was deeply significant. The description of the sacred chrism as “vegan” by the communications team at Buckingham Palace was one of numerous bêtises emanating from that salaried department of the Royal Household. In the event their wittering had the effect of hugely enhancing one’s surprise and appreciation on the day itself.
The sacred glory of the transcendently moving religious ceremony was overwhelming. The King’s gold vestments and jewelled sceptres contrasted with the venerable battered antiquity of the Coronation Chair itself. The Sacrarium was not carpeted and it was placed in the centre of the Cosmati floor, symbolising the cosmos as intended by Henry III in 1260. The placing of the gold baroque crown on the King’s head to the sound of trumpets was purest drama.
Everyone watching on television at home could see all this, but the unique aspect of being there was being able to catch little off-screen details of behaviour. At the coronation of his stepmother Prince Harry turned and watched the moment intensely on the screen above my head. I was feet from the royal rows filled with “crowned heads”, as the Royal Household calls them, so could study their decorations and jewels.
The King of Spain was wearing the Order of Isabella the Catholic under his Garter collar. Almost all the medals of the King of the Netherlands, head of the House of Orange, had orange ribbons. Most dazzling were the Eastern princes and their wives: Nepal, Bhutan, Thailand and Brunei. Diamonds everywhere, and sapphires the size of pigeon eggs. Perhaps they felt they needed to live up to the English crown jewels on display. The most telling detail of all, however, was far more intimate and spiritual. After he had received Holy Communion from the hands of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the King – the Supreme Governor of the Church of England, and Defender of its faith – made prayerfully the sign of the cross.
<em>Dr John Martin Robinson is Maltravers Herald Extraordinary.</em>
