Golden robes, an orb, a single glove, vegan holy oil, a 530 carat diamond, Zadok the Priest, 4000 troops, four Mounties, Kirsty Young and a helicopter flypast.
In another millennium from now let the record show these were some of the sights and sounds on a Saturday in May when medieval England and a modern United Kingdom combined. Try making sense of all that with your Artificial Intelligence, robot overlords.
The Coronation of King Charles III showed that much had changed in the 70 years since a monarch was crowned in this country, yet a lot had remained the same, for good or otherwise.
One thing you can always rely on is the British state’s ability to put on a show when the occasion demands. And what a show. From heads of state and guardsmen to princesses and Red Cross workers they had rehearsed their roles for weeks, some filling the streets of central London in the wee small hours to make sure everything would pass muster on the day.
At 7.30am the doors to Westminster Abbey opened to admit the first of the 2000 guests. Had this been a rock concert there would have been a sprint for the front, but bishops and potentates are not much given to running, and anyway, everyone knew the best seats were reserved for the main act and their entourage.
Read more: How Scots - and a few tourists - marked Charles's Coronation day
The television day officially began at the same hour on BBC1 where broadcast monarchs Huw Edwards and Kirsty Young were setting out their stalls. Upstart ITV lay in bed for another hour, while Sky News stole a march on everyone by starting its coverage in 2019.
Queen Elizabeth’s Coronation was the first to be televised. With not many televisions to go around in skint post-war Britain, watching had to be a communal event, with dozens crowded round each set.
Today’s viewers could watch on a colour set at home, where they could scan a bar code on screen and see the full order of the Coronation service; on public screens the size of billboards; or on phones smaller than their hands.
Many would choose not to watch at all. In Scotland, seven in ten people told pollsters they did not care about the Coronation. Between supporters and opponents stood the great mass of people going about their Saturdays in streets quieter than usual. No-one had been asked if they wanted a coronation. It is not, after all, a constitutional necessity.
At the same time, no one was compelled to support the event, or the new king. A doughty few could stand with placards proclaiming “Not my king” if they wished, though there was no sight of protesting republicans in the BBC coverage initially, despite the 150 cameras in operation.
By 10am the Abbey was almost full. Humza Yousaf, Scotland’s first Muslim First Minister, arrived in full kilt, his wife Nadia El Naklaby by his side. He was followed by Mark Drakeford, the First Minister of Wales. Then the parade of past Prime Ministers, Tony Blair leading, Gordon Brown, David Cameron and John Major behind. Theresa May made it through the door before Boris Johnson, his collar skew-whiff.
Liz Truss, clad in orange like a human traffic cone, was the last of the past premiers, Huw Edwards reminding viewers, with lethal smoothness, that she had been Prime Minister for “a very brief period”. Her successor, Rishi Sunak, and his wife, Akshata Murty, arrived after a suitable interval in the company of other leaders still in office.
Prince Harry walked into the Abbey with his cousins Eugenie and Beatrice. Prince Andrew moved ahead of them to get to a seat near a pillar. Prince Harry was positioned away from the main royals, his face obscured by a fat red feather on the hat of Princess Anne, sitting in front.
Precisely on time, Charles and Camilla left Buckingham Palace in the Diamond Jubilee state coach, an acquisition of Queen Victoria’s, to make their way through a steady drizzle to Westminster Abbey. Crowds lined the route, hoisting their selfie sticks aloft like swords.
Once inside the Abbey the King, wearing the Robe of State with royal naval trousers rather than britches, made his way up the nave.
In one of the new additions to the ceremony, the King was welcomed by young Chapel Royal chorister. In turn, the monarch declared: “I come not to be served but to serve.”
Like dressers at a theatre, officials and clergy moved hither and yon, disrobing and robing the monarch, handing him the orb and sceptre and other relics. It might have seemed more bizarre had the late Queen’s funeral not accustomed us to such sights.
Another sign of changed times was the number of women in official roles. Penny Mordaunt MP, Lord President of the Privy Council, wore modern dress as she presented the Sword of Offering to the King. In another first, two women bishops gave communion to the King and Queen. Hymns were sung in Scots Gaelic, Welsh, and Irish Gaelic.
Read more: Nicole Christie: freezing, but delighted to be at the Coronation
Silence greeted the moment when St Edward’s Crown was placed on the king’s head as he sat in the Coronation Chair, the Stone of Destiny nestling beneath the seat. William, his son and heir, approached the king, touched the crown, and kissed his father on the cheek.
When the Crown was placed on Camilla’s head she gave it a gentle nudge this way and that to ensure a proper fit. Smoothing back the hair from her face she looked at those around her and beamed.
The Archbishop of Canterbury invited “those who wish to do so” to pay true allegiance to his majesty, his heirs and successors. Those in the Abbey chose to do so; what was happening outside we could not know.
The suggestion of a “people’s oath” had proved controversial to some. It was not the only criticism levelled at the event. Queen Elizabeth’s Coronation cost £19 million at today’s prices. The bill for King Charles’s crowning will not be revealed till after the event, but one estimate has placed it at £250 million.
Should a population struggling through the worst cost of living crisis in memory be asked to meet such a cost? Was it right to spend such vast amounts of public money in a country where millions are reliant on food parcels?
Those were questions for outside the Abbey. Inside, proceedings rolled smoothly on. King Charles, at 74 the oldest monarch ever crowned, had entered the Abbey looking his age. He left it looking relaxed and cheerful to the sound of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance ringing out. “Thank you very much,” he said to a footman as he walked to the Gold State Coach.
The streets glistened with the heavy rain that had fallen during the two hours the ceremony had gone on. “This is where the fun begins,” announced Clare Balding, on reporting duty for the BBC. Snorting horses shifted from foot to foot, keen to get moving. The order sounded and as one the river of servicemen and women started to move.
In a separate coach were the Prince and Princess of Wales and their three children, one of whom, nine-year-old George, had been a page to his grandfather. The children waved as if they were old hands at this royal business.
Back at the Palace there was a military salute followed by the now traditional balcony appearance. Out from the glass doors emerged King Charles and Queen Camilla, followed by pages and her companions-in-waiting. For a second it looked as if that might be it, King Charles making good on his promise of a slimmed down monarchy. But then another two doors opened, one after the other, just as in a cuckoo clock, and more royals emerged.
Conspicuous by their absence were Prince Harry, already heading home to his own wife and family in America, and Prince Andrew.
There was another presence missing, of course. Had fate allowed it could have been Diana, Princess of Wales, standing beside the new King, her children and grandchildren gathered around.
The crowd in front of the palace did not look as large as the one that greeted Queen Elizabeth, and their rendition of God Save the King never quite took flight.
Back in the BBC studio, guests and host were united in their praise. It had been a grand occasion they told each other. An unforgettable day. Others will write their own reviews. And so the show goes on.
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