My mother is working on her memoirs, and when she sent me this I couldn’t help thinking of the similarities between her story—from over 50 years ago—and Maryanna Newton’s reflections on the recent Obama inauguration.
June 3, 1953–Coronation Day
By Penny Carless
I spent the night before the coronation camped out on the Mall in London, amongst many thousands of others, young and old, from all over the British Commonwealth and world. Our much beloved young Queen was to be crowned Elizabeth II in Westminster Abbey and we were all there to cheer as she, and so many other dignitaries and royalty from all over the British Commonwealth, passed by in wonderful fairytale carriages.
There were servicemen in their ceremonial uniforms marching to military bands, brass instruments polished to look their very best. The only problem was it was raining. It didn’t dampen our spirits one bit but some of colors in the ceremonial whiting and blacking ran!
I don’t remember it raining during the night and it wasn’t a downpour, thankfully but it did make things a bit less than perfect. We heard a piece of exciting news that morning which made us forget the rain; we were told that Sir Edmund Hillary had conquered Everest, the first man to do so. What an addition to an already incredibly exciting day.
The crowd was fun; friendly folks all around; all of us with different food to share and so many different languages, accents. I was with a boyfriend called John–last name escapes me–who was quite tall and strong and we were able to get in good position to see everything. The procession passed us on the way to the Abbey and on the way back, which was so exciting. Once the Queen and guests were back in Buckingham Palace the crowds were allowed to gather directly outside the palace where we cheered everyone some more as the royal party came out onto the balcony. The rain stopped and the sun came out as the Royal Air Force flew over the palace in a salute–and we cheered again.
I don’t think anyone born in the US can really understand the deep feelings so many of the British people have for their King or Queen. We were brought up to think of them with such respect and they were considered really a benign and much loved, albeit somewhat austere, relative. The monarch is completely apolitical–at least in public. They are not involved in governing the country in any way and their duties are entirely ceremonial.
Elizabeth II’s father was George VI. During the war King George and his wife Queen Elizabeth (later known with great affection as the Queen Mum) were such a strong figurehead all during the blitz. They could have left London for the country during the bombing but elected to stay in the city and every morning they would be found out amongst the people who had been bombed the previous night. It helped to dispel the misery somewhat. Buckingham Palace did in fact get bombed, but not seriously and I don’t think anyone was hurt.
George VI had a particularly warm place in our hearts. He had never expected to be King. He was the second son of George V but the eldest son, Edward, had chosen to abdicate and marry an American divorcee, Wallis Simpson, much to most people’s absolute disgust. King George was rather frail and had a terrible stutter, which made giving speeches so painful for him. Every Christmas Day the King or Queen addresses the nation at 3pm; in our day it was on the radio but I’m sure it must be on TV these days. Most people would stop their Christmas festivities to listen–it was a wonderful tradition. We would all agonize with the King when he had problems with his stutter.
George VI died in February of 1952 and the country was devastated. His eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was on an official tour in Kenya with her husband, (then the Duke of Edinburgh) and was called home to assume the role of Queen. She was in her early twenties at the time, so young.
The King’s body lay in state in Westminster Hall, adjacent to the Houses of Parliament, for several days so that the people could file past to pay their respects. I was in my final year at school and was allowed to go up to London with three other sixth formers to represent the school. I remember we stood in line for what seemed like a very long time and then filed past the coffin, guarded on all four corners by servicemen in ceremonial uniform; much like when a dignitary lies in state in the Rotunda in the Capital in Washington. Very impressive and moving.
In the two main daily papers there was always a column called the Royal Circular, which listed the places the members of the royal family would be that day. If I was in London I would always look and see if the Queen was going to be anywhere near where I was and I was lucky enough to see her passing by several times.
Even though I have been away from England so long now I still have a warm place in my heart for the royal family and enjoy seeing pictures and reading articles about them. I’m sure it seems strange to some but it seems to be a feeling that never goes away.
Posted under Life Stories
This post was written by Sally Carless on August 23, 2009
