“At the Coronation of my Grandfather”: King Edward VIII remembers the day Edward VII was crowned

At the Coronation of my grandfather, King
Edward VII, what I remember most vividly was the consternation caused by the
sudden illness of the King on the eve of the Coronation itself.

The princes and representatives of all the
foreign States had in fact gathered in London when the news was announced in a
bulletin from the Palace that the King had perityphlitis — what is now known as
appendicitis — and had undergone an emergency operation. In consequence the
coronation had to be postponed at the last hour.

I well recall how in the midst of their
anxiety my parents were called upon to entertain and. placate the visiting
potentates and to represent the King at functions that could not be cancelled.

The Coronation eventually took place on
August 9 and because of the postponement was somewhat of an anti-climax. By
that time the visiting royalties had long since departed to their respective
countries, and it was not practicable to reassemble them all.

Moreover, inasmuch as the King had not
fully recovered his strength, the long Coronation service was somewhat
curtailed. Bertie and I were taken by Mr. Hansell to the Abbey in a carriage.
Pinch, our valet, rode on the box seat, very handsome in the royal red livery.

As we were too young to be included in any
of the State processions we were slipped by a back entrance into the Royal box
reserved for the Princesses, to the right of the altar.

In front of the box was a dais on which
stood the two ornate Chairs of State, to be used by my grandparents for the
first part of the ceremony. My father took his place in front of the peers of
the realm, between the Duke of Cambridge and the Duke of Connaught, both
distinguished Royal soldiers.

The Duke of Cambridge, my mother’s uncle
George, who was then 83, had commanded a Guards Brigade in the Crimean War. The
Duke of Connaught, my grandfather’s youngest brother Arthur, had led another
Guards Brigade in Egypt against Aribi Pasha in 1882, in the punitive campaign
that ushered in the long period of British occupation of that country.

The King and Queen leaving Buckingham Palace for their coronation. Wikimedia Commons

After a lapse of more than 50 years many
incidents of this undeniably magnificent event have unfortunately faded from my
memory, and in any case the mind of an eight-year-old boy was hardly capable of
taking it all in.

Years later Finch used to tell us how at a
tense moment in the ceremony one of my greataunts dropped her book programme
over the side of the box. It fell with a clatter into a large gold cup below, evoking
among us children a merriment which my mother suppressed with a stern backward
glance.

The Coronation service lasted almost three
hours — an interminable time for small boys to be expected to keep still.
Perhaps it was for that reason I have no clear recollection of my grandfather actually
being crowned.

Afterwards I was to hear my father describe
how the octogenarian Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Frederick Temple, dropping
on his knee to do homage, was so enfeebled by age and overcome by emotion that
he could not rise; of how the King helped him to his feet and of how the old
Primate at the conclusion of the service collapsed entirely, bewailing to his
fellow prelates: “It’s not my head; it’s my legs.”

King Edward VII is crowned. By Edwin Austin Abbey. Wikimedia Commons

My parents had foresightedly arranged for
Mr. Hansell and Finch to be posted nearby in the back, ground as a precaution
against our becoming too unruly.

Once I looked up and noticed Mr. Hansell
with his eyes closed and his lips moving as in prayer. Finch told me afterwards
that he was convinced our tutor was praying not for the King, but that the
Archbishop would last through the service.

After the placing of the  crown on the King’s head the most impressive
incident in the Coronation service is the act of homage of the heir apparent
when he is of age to render it. In a moment of hush my mother bent down to
whisper to us, “Now Papa will do homage to Grandpapa.”

With that the intricate and tedious
ceremony took on for us a personal meaning. We watched as my father, in his
crimson robes and the coronet of the Prince of Wales on his head, advanced up
the steps of the throne to kneel there in filial humility.

The anointing of Queen Alexandra. Wikimedia Commons

After reciting the oath of fealty he rose
to his feet, touched the King’s crown, and kissed him upon the cheek, my grand
father was moved to embrace him in a sudden spontaneous gesture which lifted
the ritual out of formality.

When, nine years later, it came my turn as
Prince of Wales to render homage to my father as monarch, I was to experience
myself the emotions he must have felt on this occasion.

Because my grandfather was a genial and
ample man with a liking for people, and a cosmopolitan taste for good living,
his reign is chiefly re membered for its gaiety and exuberance.

But what is not so well known is that
Edward VII entered upon his kingly re sponsibilities in a mood of despondency
growing out of the ambiguity of his position.

He was in his 60th year— an age when most
men are thinking of retiring: his life had been passed under the shadow of the
tremendous figure of his mother, Queen Victoria.

To the very end she was determined to bear
her burden alone, and in consequence there fell to him during his most vigorous
years only the lesser crumbs of official duties.

Source:

 My
Coronation Thoughts 3: At King Edward VII’s Coronation… by H.R.H. Edward,
Duke of Windsor.  The Courier-Mail. [Read here]