The Weekly Machen
This week, we present a third front-page article by Arthur Machen. This one covers the coronation of King George V. The day before, Machen had vibrantly described the growing excitement of the enchanted city as the great event neared. Earlier this month, we posted the shortest article to appear in The Weekly Machen series; now we offer by far the longest. Not only did this article command much of the front page, it was continued and concluded on page 5 of the Evening News.
For those who are interested in Machen’s religious beliefs, this week’s entry gives us a clear and eloquent statement. Beyond the historical importance of the day, Machen views the coronation cosmically and liturgically. In this holy ritual, “truth is manifested.”
The following article is not listed in the bibliography by Goldstone and Sweetser.
How the King Was Crowned:
A Wonderful Sight in the Abbey
by
Arthur Machen
June 22, 1911
There never was, I suppose, a greater contrast than that between the journey and the journey’s end.
Early in the morning I woke up and saw a grey dawn come upon the streets all silent and hushed as if in preparation for high and holy rites and great solemnities. There was quiet in the air, and in that quiet there seemed to steal across the myriad walls of London some scent of the far-off fields; in the heart of the great town the odours of the summer-morning rose as from sweet meadows and gardens of wild flowers.
It was not long that the silence lasted. Soon the carriages began to roll through the streets, and foot-passengers went hurrying on. It had been impressed on everyone that those who would see must be early.
Living some two and a half miles from Westminster I set out in a taxicab at 6.15, and in a minute or two one seemed to be in the full region of rejoicing. Baker-street and the ways adjoining were aflame with fluttering flags; in Regent-street the block of vehicles had already begun. The air was full of the joyous ringing summons of the bugles; troop after troop of scarlet soldiery went on their way to take up their positions and as we struck into the flow of the procession there was something that awed the heart in the sight of the massed thousands. It was before seven and the line was not yet severely kept; people ran to and fro confusedly; there was all that hurry and rush that must always precede a great ceremony in a great city.
In the Abbey at 7 A. M.
But hardly had I passed the Abbey door before all this tumult and confusion were forgotten. I went up a narrow winding stair, and found myself in the North Triforium; many people were already in their places; the bells were just ringing seven. And the guests are continually coming in and being ushered to their seats by marshals in black velvet Court suits, carrying batons of red and gold. Scarlet and white are the chief hues of the gathering assembly. Scarlet uniforms, scarlet judges’ robes, the scarlet costumes of the peers mingle with the white ermine and white satin worn by many of the ladies. The Abbey is quite transfigured; wherever one looks, tier upon tier of seats rises amidst the piercing thirteenth century arches.
From where I stand I can see the gleam and glitter of the splendid gold plate standing on sideboard or credence table in the sanctuary. And in the centre of the sanctuary, facing the altar, is the mystic throne on which the King is to be crowned.
The mystic throne! As I write these words, suddenly it comes upon me that we are assembled together in a great and holy house of mysteries, where every stone is eloquent, having been redeemed from the shapeless masses of the quarry and taught to speak a wonderful and holy speech.
Bringing the Regalia
Above me there glows in dim hues a great rose window; and it was a rose of such a shape that images in Dante the final goal and perfection of the blessed in Paradise. And everywhere within these walls the carven stones are, as I say, eloquent, discoursing beauty and that vision which lies beyond beauty. Here is the imagery of all the universe, represented magically. And nine o’clock strikes, and an invisible choir passes in procession singing; it is the rite of bringing the Regalia, and from without the walls there is the sound of ringing bells. And within there is the murmur of many voices.
But what strikes me is not the splendour of the seats that now are almost filled with scarlet and gold and pure shining white. I am thinking of that ancient stone of Coronation and of the ceremonies that are to be done about it; I am thinking that the whole rite is a great protest against almost every tendency of modern times. For a long time we have proclaimed the supreme consequence of utility: a Coronation is not in the least useful—in the ordinary sense of the word.
It would be an easy thing to lead a King into a plain room where in a ledger-like book he could sign the oath before three witnesses, dressed in frock coats and grey trousers; such is the direction in which most modern thought has long pointed.
But here before me and all about me, in the mystery of the symbols of stone, in the dim jewels of the windows, in the splendour of the great assemblage, in that throne before the altar, in the chanting voices and the ringing bells: here is a great word saying that through visible and sensible forms hidden truth is manifested.
The Foreign Princes
The great organ has spoken from its awful tubes; the drums and trumpets answered as the Regalia were borne in gorgeous procession by the prelates in their copes, the scarlet and white choir following. There is silence in the Abbey, except for the ringing of the bells; we can hear the sound of their rejoicing high in the air above the stony vault of the great church.
The assembly stands up and the music sounds again in honour of the coming of the foreign princes, whose entry is unseen by us in the Triforium.
In the meantime it is curious to note the contrasts in costume immediately beneath us, in the seats allotted to the House of Commons. The great majority of the members present are either in Court dress or in military uniform, but there are some in morning dress, and two or three in lounge suits of plain tweed.
Similarly, most of the ladies in the House of Commons seats are in full evening dress, with white ostrich feathers in their hair. But there are several who are in morning attire, with lace coifs for headdress.
Arrival of the Prince of Wales
Another crash of triumphant sound, and ushered by a herald and great officers of State the Prince of Wales, the Princess Mary and the other royal children are escorted to their places. The royal box has soon filled; still amid the crash and triumph of horns and drums and cymbals there came into it all the Princes and Princesses of the Blood Royal.
At five minutes to eleven there is a louder flourish of the trumpets than before; the drums roll and beat, and people say to one another, “He is here.’’ The King is without the portals of the Abbey; and it sounds as if all the bells in the world were ringing and crashing together in a tumult of glad sound. The candles are burning on the altar and before it, and the murmuring of voices from the huge congregation dies down into solemn hush.
A Gorgeous Scene
Now all rise to their feet, and as they do so you see the gold lace on the men’s uniforms, the chains of honour about the necks of the judges, and the golden coronets of the peers flame in the movement; but more wonderful is the flashing of the jewels in the women’s hair, and blazing of the diamonds that shine upon their necks. It is said that within the Abbey on this day there is a treasure of precious stones such as the world has never seen before collected into one place; and these jewels, be it remembered, are in many or most cases heirlooms, valuable not only for their beauty, but also for their historic associations.
Enter—The Sovereign
But this last rising of the people and the lords and judges of England is for the great entrance of the Sovereign of England. The great lords of State now appear, carrying with them the regalia. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York, in golden copes, pass up the choir, preceded by ecclesiastics in dark crimson copes bearing on high the cross.
The choir sings “I was glad when they said unto me, ‘Let us go into the House of the Lord,’” and then the King and Queen of England go to their first positions at the side of the choir; the Westminster scholars thundering “Vivats!” as this great Majesty of England goes up to the holy place. They bow, both King and Queen, to the High Altar ere they sit down, thus reverencing, as an old divine of the English Church has expressed it, the “invisible presence of Almighty God.”
“God Save King George”
Again the “Vivats”; the King has been shown to the people at each side of the platform; and thus with loyal cries they proclaim their willingness that he shall reign over them. And this done, the King, in his crimson robe, with its rich ermines and long train borne up by scarlet pages, goes again to his place in the choir.
And it is impossible to describe in words the glory and the brightness and the shining of colour that proceed from that wonderful group of King and Queen and their attendant lords, who are before the credence table that carries the golden treasure of plate.
The Services Begins
The Regalia, the swords excepted, are borne up to the high altar and laid there, and two bishops kneeling at a stool set to the west of the Throne, begin to sing the Litany, the choir answering them.
The Liturgy
The Litany ended; the Archbishop as celebrant, with two bishops as deacon and sub-deacon, went up to the altar while the choir sang the Introit “Let My Prayer come up into Thy presence as the incense.”
Then, with the salutation “The Lord be with you’’ the Archbishop began the Divine Liturgy according to the rite of England.
Collect, Epistle, and Gospel succeeded one another; and then a trumpet gave out a great and ancient phrase, “I believe in one God, and the Creed, the King and Queen,” and the well-instructed turning eastward.”
The Creed was sung to the Church’s antique song, and sounded unspeakably majestic, with the deep thunders of the organ bearing up the voices of the choir.
The Convocation Oath
Then there followed a brief sermon by the Archbishop of York, and the Archbishop of Canterbury proceeded to administer the Coronation Oath.
“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?” the Archbishop asked, and the King replied, “I will”; and then his Majesty swore to preserve the liberties of England in Church and State, kneeling on the altar steps, and laying his right hand upon the Holy Gospel in the great Bible. The King kissed the book and signed the oath; and the choir sang that ancient invocation called “Veni Creator Spiritus”—“Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire.’’
The Archbishop implored the Eternal that, as of old, kings, priests and prophets were anointed with oil, so “Thy chosen servant George” might receive with the visible unction the invisible gift of the Holy Spirit, and there began Handel’s glorious anthem, “Zadok the Priest and Nathan the Prophet anointed Solomon King.”
The Great Climax
Then a great and wonderful sight. High Lords bore forward a golden canopy, and held it on high in the midst of the choir; and all the while the “God save the King. Amen. Hallelujah” that ends the anthem was ringing through the vaults and arches of the church.
Signing King George with the Holy Oil on Head and Breast and Hands, the Archbishop imparted the royal character; and the King knelt down and received the blessing of the Church.
The Dean of Westminster put upon the King the mystic vestments of his office; the “Colobium Sindonis”—a kind of tabard—and the supertunica of shining cloth of gold.
Spurs were brought, and the King was girt with “the Kingly sword” by the Lord Great Chamberlain.
This was now the picture; one by one the ensigns and emblems and symbols of the royal power were brought to the King, that with these visible instruments and images of might the spiritual realities that are behind the royal office might be manifested.
The Crowning
And at last the final symbol: with solemn invocation, the Archbishop took the crown from the altar and set it on the King’s head as he sat on the Stone of Destiny, the age-old talisman of some forgotten race that once dwelt in these isles.
“God save the King” again thundered to the vault; the bells rang out, and the choir’s anthem sounded; and then that great figure, crowned and golden, rose up from his throne; the Holy Bible was presented to him; and he was solemnly enthroned, and then came the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Prince of Wales, the Princes of the Blood Royal, and all the peers of England, under the direction of a herald, knelt down and did homage, swearing to be “your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship.”
Homage to the King
One by one, each order of the peerage did its homage by its representative, who knelt before His Majesty bareheaded. And when this, was ended, there was again the outburst of loyal cries.
God save King George,
Long live King George,
May the King live for ever.
The solemnity of the King’s Coronation was ended, and the drums beat and the trumpets blew. The golden canopy again advanced, and Queen Mary followed it to the place of her anointing in the quire.
“Let the anointing of this oil increase your honour, and the grace of God’s Holy Spirit establish you, for ever and ever.”
The Archbishop put the Queen’s ring upon her finger, crowned her, put the Sceptre in one hand and the Ivory Rod in the other; and thus invested, Her Majesty, bowing first to the King, took up her position beside him.
The King and Queen then went up to the High Altar, and, putting off their crowns, offered bread and wine for that “reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice” that was now to follow; offering also two “palls,” or altar-cloths, and two wedges of gold.
From the triforum the ceremonies at the altar were not visible; I could only see one burning taper and the kneeling figure of a bishop in his red and golden cope.
But I could hear the chanting of the choir making interludes to deep and solemn silences, or to the voice of the Archbishop speaking the most solemn words that can be uttered. And the Herald, who knelt in his rich embroidered tabard at the entrance of the choir, showed what mysteries were being celebrated in the sanctuary.
The King and Queen returned to their thrones as the choir sang the Paternoster to the ancient intonations.
Te Deum
The service went on to its end, and the Te Deum fitly closed all. As the choir began to sing it again there was formed that wonderful procession; the Queen with her crimson train and the golden King attended by the great officers of State bearing their wands of office. They went up to the altar; passing into St. Edward’s Chapel, where the King changes his Royal Robe of State for his robe of purple velvet.
But while this was being done all the floor of the choir was thronged with many hues and resplendent figures, who seemed to break from their places and to gather there; gorgeous in their crimson and ermine and golden coronets, and against the crimson velvet of the peers’ vesture there were the crimson silk copes worn by the Canons of Windsor and the scarlet of military uniforms, with here and there a page in sky blue; and all these mingled splendours had for background the array of gold plate on the credence table.
And all the while the noble hymn, “Te Deum,” lolled and triumphed and thundered through the aisles, and the vast multitude stood up almost as splendid in their array as the Officers in the quire.
Three Cheers for the King
And when the National Anthem was finished with a great chord of the organ, someone—I do not know who it was—called for three cheers for the King.
They were given with a will; people shouted “Hip, Hip, Hurrah,” with all their hearts and all their lungs.
And they shouted “Hip, hip, hurrah!” for the Queen and the Prince of Wales: and when the Royal Procession appeared in the choir, entering from St. Edward’s Chapel, there was “God Save the King” again and more cheers.
Down to the west door went the great array; King and Queen anointed to reign over us, and invested with all those most ancient instruments that tell us that in spite of all new things and new ideas we are still a race of noble and antique history.
King and Queen, with brave music behind them, went forth to meet their people; and when the doors of the Abbey were thrown open we heard the acclamations of the crowds without.
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Next: The Shudder of the Drums
darklybrightpress.com 
Splendid – thank you! What a sense of what photography could not begin to convey then, if permitted in the Abbey – and Machen’s rich depiction later on the very day!
By way of comparison, one may look at the scan in the Internet Archive entitled:
The Illustrated London News 1911-06-24: Vol 138 Iss 3766
and after the artists have had some time to work, the one entitled:
The Illustrated London News 1911-07-01: Vol 139 Iss 3767
I assume there must be coloured illustrations, too, and perhaps paintings, after however long or short an interval, but on the day, we have word and ‘wordsmith’!
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It suddenly makes me think of how soon after the Coronation of Edward VII (9 August 1902) Chesterton’s futuristic novel The Napoleon of Notting Hill appeared (1904) – and that R.H. Benson’s futuristic novel Lord of the World, with its depiction of the desecration of the Abbey, followed it by only some three more years (1907) – and here, so soon after, all the splendor on 22 June 1911 when “this great Majesty of England goes up to the holy place” – and all that followed – that day.
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Tangentially, with the thought that in three years and 43 days “The United Kingdom declares war on Germany, automatically including all dominions, colonies, etc. of the British Empire including Canada, Australia, and British India” (as the Wikipedia “Timeline of World War I” expresses it), I am just catching up on Arthur Conan Doyle’s collection, The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard (published as a book in February 1896), including the fascinating reflections on Germany in the story “How the Brigadier Played for a Kingdom”, published in December 1895.
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