The final act in the Coronation ceremony is the enthronement, or as it is more anciently named, the Inthronisation. Wearing the State Crown, with a sceptre in each hand, and clothed in the robes of majesty, the King is conducted from St. Edward’s Chair to the Throne of England, and is placed upon it by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Then all those peers and high officers who bear the Swords, and Orb, and other portions of the Regalia, group themselves round the steps of the throne, whilst the Archbishop makes his final exhortation. After the coronation of a sovereign all the Regalia are handed back to the Keeper of the Jewel House and conveyed to the Tower of London, where the majority rest till the next King or Queen ascends the Throne.
During a reign the only portions of the Regalia which usually leave the Tower are the King’s State Crown, the Queen’s State Crown, the Sword of State, and such maces as are required, these being used when the King opens Parliament in State. On great occasions, however, such as the day when peace was declared, at the end of the Great War, the silver trumpets are taken out and the State trumpeters sound a fanfare thereon when the heralds make proclamation. At the same time two or three of the Sergeants-at-Arms’ maces are also taken out and borne in the heralds’ procession.
When a Queen in her own right, like Queen Victoria, is crowned, she uses the same Regalia as is above described for a King, but when the Queen is a Queen Consort the procedure and Regalia are different. For such occasions a double set are made, such as were used by James II and his Queen Mary of Modena; by William III and Mary II; by Edward VII and Queen Alexandra; and by George V and Queen Mary. The Regalia of a Queen Consort consists of a State Crown, a ring, and two sceptres, with regal robes somewhat similar to those of the King.
The ceremony of the coronation of a Queen Consort is comparatively brief, and is performed by the Archbishop of York. First the Queen is anointed, whilst four peeresses hold a rich pall or canopy of gold over her. The Archbishop is enjoined to pour the oil on Her Majesty’s head, but we confidently hope that he is usually not too literal in the interpretation of this injunction. After the anointing, the Keeper of the Jewel House hands the Coronation Ring to the Archbishop, who places it on the Queen’s fourth finger of the right hand, giving to it the name of the Seal of Faith. Then the Archbishop takes the Queen’s Crown and reverently places it on her head, referring to it as the Crown of glory, honour, and joy. At the same moment as the Queen is crowned all the peeresses put on their coronets. Finally the Archbishop of York places a Sceptre in the Queen’s right hand, and the Ivory Rod with the Dove in her left hand.
All the regal emblems above described are kept in the Jewel House at the Tower of London, and are there on view every day in the week, except Sundays and Christmas Day, all the year round. On Saturdays and Bank Holidays the Jewel House is free to visitors, whilst on other days a charge of sixpence is made. On a Whit Monday Bank Holiday as many as 16,000 people have been known to pass free through the Jewel House. The money paid for entrance does not, as in the old days, go to the Keeper of the Jewel House or to his assistants, but to the Treasury. The takings vary from over £700 in a good month, say August, down to £150 in a bad month, generally December. The total fees taken must be some £5000 per annum. Thus the Crown Jewels are not like talents hidden in the ground, but bring in a handsome income to the State.
CHAPTER VII
THE GREAT TRAGEDY
Tragedy comes to the Crown Jewels—The Parliamentary obsession—The emblems of royalty to be destroyed—Some sensible Lords—The Puritan unmasked—Some excellent bargains for the righteous—The Black Prince’s ruby sold for £4—Concealed and returned to Charles II—Alfred the Great’s Crown melted down—Then 800 years old—Fetched £238—Queen Edith’s Crown—Sold for £16—A glass cup for £102—The golden Dove, emblematic of the Holy Ghost, £26—The three swords another bargain—St. George’s gold spurs for £1 13s. 4d.—The “old horne comb”—A complete list of the Royal plate and jewels with their values—The Robes destroyed—The Restoration—Regalia furnished for Charles II—Cost £320,000 of our money—Included therein “a paire of Trowses and breeches over them”—The presents of plate—The city of Exeter’s gift—And that of the Borough of Plymouth—A wine fountain and its uses—The Great Salts—A golden baptismal font—The pilfering of jewels—James II pays £500 for hire of jewels at his coronation—A new State Crown required—A diadem which cost £110,000—A new Sceptre with the Dove £440—The Sceptre with the Cross £1025—St. Edward’s staff—A new Orb for Queen Mary of Modena—The aquamarine monde of James II—The Maundy Dish—The Alms Dish and flagon of William and Mary—The Imperial Crown of India—Queen Mary’s Crown—The tragedy of 1649 happily wiped out.
THE greatest tragedy which has ever happened to the Crown Jewels occurred during the sway of the Commonwealth. This period, thus misappropriately named, was, it is said by people who know all about these things, merely a national aperient, which as such, they say, served its purpose, but the medicine smells no sweeter to many of us of this day than it did to those who had to swallow it in that bygone age. The Parliamentarians took themselves extremely seriously, and in the solemn attempt to stamp out the monarchy, and all monarchical principles, they with the limited intelligence that permeates the parochially-minded thought to further this fanatical principle by destroying even the emblems of royalty. This though these had become nothing more dangerous than any other articles of wondrous historic value such as are fitly preserved in the British Museum. This class of fanatic might, with ponderous conscientiousness, blow up the Pyramids of Egypt in furtherance of some similar principle.
In solemn conclave, therefore, the House of Commons passed a resolution that all emblems of royalty should be totally broken up, the gold and silver to be melted down, and the jewels sold to the best advantage. True there were a few sensible members of the House of Lords who pointed out that the historic value of the Crown Jewels far exceeded their intrinsic worth, and that to melt down crowns and plate and to disperse jewels of renown was a very extravagant procedure, especially so in an era of strict economy. Nevertheless, broken up and destroyed were the Crown Jewels, and happily we have a list of the portions which fell into the meltingpot, or beneath the hammer of the auctioneer. The House of Commons of those days was liberally primed with what are known as Puritans. A Puritan was doubtless an excellent person according to his lights, but an outside world has since been, perhaps unjustly, somewhat inclined to confound him with another not very popular and more ancient biblical type. It is, therefore, perhaps not unnatural to find that many mundane persons of those days, such as Royalists and Cavaliers, in whispers at the time and later more openly, declared that the disposal of the Crown Jewels was so effected as to give the Members of Parliament and their friends some very handsome bargains.