Coronation and the chilling ghost of Lord Esher

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#81 Coronation and the Chilling Ghost of Lord Esher
Friday 10 March 2023
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#81 Coronation and the chilling ghost of Lord Esher
Queen Victoria with her pony, Fyvie, and John Brown. Royal Collection Trust

'Very poor and shabby'
 
When it comes to the Royals, the British love to talk about tradition and about institutions that go back a thousand years. Royal events these days are characterised by meticulous rehearsals, uniforms, carriage processions, street parties.
 
But it wasn’t always like that.
 
George IV had planned an enormous coronation in 1821. It’s mostly famous for his estranged queen trying to break into the Abbey. [No ticket, no admission, said the man at the door]. But George also got all his peers to dress up in what he imagined was historical costume. The result was universally thought to be embarrassing – the press called it ‘grotesque.’ The king himself was wearing so many layers of historical stuff that he fainted in the service and had to be brought round with smelling salts. He spent the evening openly flirting with his mistress Lady Elizabeth Conyngham at the banquet in Westminster Hall which ended with the assembled nobility pocketing all the silverware…

At Victoria’s coronation the clergy kept losing their place and two of the ladies carrying the queen’s train gossiped audibly the whole time. At her wedding, everybody agreed that the royal carriage – barely glimpsed on a short, quick dash from Buckingham Palace to St James’s - was completely outshone by the fine carriage of the French Ambassador. Anyway, the groom, Prince Albert got lost on the way and people complained that, besides the private ceremony, to which Victoria only invited people she liked, it was all ‘very poor and shabby.’  

People also commented on the shabbiness of the wedding of Victoria’s eldest son the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) to Princess Alexandra in 1863. It was held miles away at Windsor, much to the disgust of the press since nobody would be able to watch. Victoria didn’t bother to join any of the wedding processions. At the end the Prime Minister had to travel back to London by train in a 3rd class seat. He was lucky; the leader of the opposition, Disraeli, rode home on his wife’s lap.
 



#81 Coronation and the chilling ghost of Lord Esher




 

Imperial Crown is placed on Edward VII to shouts from peers of 'God save the King', August 1902

The modern monarchy was transformed by the sewage of Scarborough

In December 1871, Queen Victoria’s eldest son Prince Edward caught typhoid fever at a party in Scarborough. [The town was reported to have a very bad problem with sewage]. Typhoid had killed his father Albert 10 years before. Edward survived.

So in February 1872, much against the queen’s wishes, Prime Minister William Gladstone insisted on a public thanksgiving in St Paul’s Cathedral. A procession of nine carriages was cheered by orderly crowds. Some representatives even from working men’s organisations were invited. It all went down very well with the public though the press complained that anywhere else in Europe, nine carriages would have been regarded as pitifully few. But it turned out to set a precedent for a new kind of public royal spectacular that has continued ever since. 

Preparations for Edward VII’s coronation in 1902 were more elaborate but still characteristically chaotic. The supervising earl, the Earl Marshal, always a Duke of Norfolk, had organised a Court of Claims. It was a special court with a long history where people, mostly peers of the realm, paid lawyers to state their claim that hereditarily, they had the right to present the king’s great spurs, or the king’s gold spurs; or to carry the first sword, or the second, or even the great sword; or to hold the crystal mace, or the sceptre with the dove; or to offer the kings’ gold cup, or his cap, or his basin and towel, or to provide his right glove. (Apparently the aristos are up to this again ahead of Charles III's coronation).

What few rehearsals Norfolk had managed to arrange, had been completely useless. Nobody had any idea where to process or what bit of arcane paraphernalia they were supposed to be holding or presenting or where [let alone why.] Only a miracle would save the whole thing from being a farce.

And then…. up at Buckingham Palace they grabbed the king and pinned him down, flailing and shouting, on the billiard table. One of the men many people suspected to have been Jack the Ripper was getting his knives out and was preparing to slice into the old man.

Actually Sir Frederick Treves was the royal physician. Edward VII had gone down with acute appendicitis and an operation was the only way to save his life. Always supposing he survived, his coronation would have to be postponed. A sigh of relief all round. 

It's not possible to understand the modern British monarchy without discussing Lord Esher

Elizabeth II with crown, orb and sceptre, 1953

French lavatory attendant a dead-ringer for Edward VII 

Edward VII had finally recovered sufficiently to be crowned on Saturday 9 August 1902. By that time many were bored of the whole business. Because the Boer War had just ended, there had been rather a lot of public holidays and processions that year. So on the day of the coronation many Londoners did what they always would on an August bank holiday. They got on the train and went to the seaside. The town was emptier than usual.

The coronation of Edward VII in 1902 set the precedent for all the coronations of the 20th century. A boom in Victorian popular history meant that, by 1902, everyone – rich, poor, educated and less so, was up for a pageant. And what better than a good old coronation? Edward VII’s coronation in 1902 added to popular, royal spectacular street pageants a whole layer of mock-historical dressing up and marching.

Official events for Victoria’s coronation in 1838 had lasted exactly one day, even though there were (as usual) feasts and fireworks in many parts of the country. For Edward VII’s coronation in 1902 there was a fortnight of events. Everyone wanted to be in on the act.
 
And of course, there were plenty of film cameras, with dozens of crews coming from around the world and paying good money for the best viewpoints. They were not, of course, allowed into the Abbey. That was anyway much too dark for filming. But early film-makers loved celebrities, street scenes and processions, and a coronation was perfect.

There was even a brief silent film of the ceremony itself [well, a very condensed version of it, both in length and in scale.] It was a Franco-British co-production that had been made in a studio in Montreuil in France over the preceding weeks. It starred an unnamed lavatory attendant - or maybe he was a brewer’s assistant, or a man who worked in a laundry. Versions differ. The important point was that he happened to be a dead-ringer for King Edward VII.

The ceremony in August, after Edward's recovery, had been shortened since the film was made, so some of it was now wrong. When he watched it, Edward didn’t mind. He was delighted. ‘What a wonderful thing cinema is. It’s found a way to record even the parts of the ceremony that never happened.' He was particularly pleased that, in the film, he looked taller than his queen. Kings of England have often been sensitive about their height.

Lord Esher, as a 'Gentleman of France', Devonshire House Ball 1897

The chilling ghost of Lord Esher

The monarchy Britain has today is very much a late Victorian and Edwardian monarchy, created – you might say trapped – in the expectations of Merrie England and olde worlde popular history that existed in the 1890s and 1900s.

And if one man is responsible for that, it is Reginald Brett. He is usually known by the title he inherited in 1904, Viscount Esher. Let’s leave aside his abuse of schoolboys at Eton, including it is said his own son.

Esher was obsessed with Empire, with antiquity and what he saw as history. He was also mad about the theatre – which was just then going through a bit of a golden period in London. And he personally adored the dressing up. In fact he insisted that everyone in royal ceremonies – not just the military – had to wear a uniform, to distinguish themselves from the mere mortals who could watch from the sidelines. You only had to watch the funeral of Elizabeth II over a century later to see that Esher’s love of uniforms and stagey presentation has stuck.

Esher also introduced meticulous organisation and rehearsals. There were to be no more embarrassing mishaps at royal events.  And this too has stuck. The rehearsals for the coronation of George VI in 1937 and Elizabeth II in 1953 were relentless, like invading Normandy.

Since 1902 Coronations have also been used to make international statements. At the coronation of George VI in 1937, the display of old-fashioned British imperial pomp was intended to contrast as strongly as possible with the marching military of Hitler and Mussolini. Elizabeth’s coronation in 1953 was similarly a statement to the USA and the new European Community that little, battered old Britain wasn’t done yet.

The coronation of Charles III occurs in the context of Brexit and deep economic crisis and carries as much international weight as anything that has gone before.


In 1953 the Coronation committee flatly refused to allow TV cameras until an outcry from the press, and a firm word from the young queen. TV licenses jumped from 1.5m to 3m. Go and watch some of it.  It’s an endless procession of old men in fancy dress, carrying the swords of this and the rods of that, and the rings of something and the armils of something else, and the order of this and the order of that and the Duke of somewhere and the Earl of somewhere else.

At last the young Elizabeth arrives looking terrified. It is an extraordinary moment.


 
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